Nothing to Fear
by CPDxOTHLove
Summary: When Brooke Davis goes to Hank Voight looking for help, she gets a little more than she bargained for. Brooke Davis/Jay Halstead Coupling.
1. Chapter 1

Hi all :) I am so excited to begin my new story! This is more of a prologue than a first chapter, just something to see if you like it and want me to continue!

I will OF COURSE be writing an Epilogue to Bless the Broken Road - I just want to make it perfect before I post it! And who knows... maybe I will post a sequel down the line :)

 **Chapter 1,**

 _Breathe. Just breathe._

Brooke Davis could feel the walls closing in on her.

When she closed her eyes, it was like she could feel his fingers. The way they had been clammy and cold against her neck, the way they just wouldn't let up. The way they squeezed her even as she struggled against him.

Even as she gasped, trying to fill her lungs, only to result in ragged, strained breaths.

Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered the feeling of the wind being knocked out of her, the sharpness of the kick of his steel boot into her abdomen.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could _see_ the bruises that marked her skin. The dark lines that traced where his fingers had squeezed her neck, her arms. The evidence of his punches that settled deep in her eyes.

 _Breath._

That's why she kept her eyes open.

 _Boom, boom, boom._

Because there was more; there were the injuries that stayed long after the physical evidence was gone.

Those were the ones that kept her up at night.

 _Boom, boom._

So her eyes were open. Open and trained on the paper outline of the man at the end of the aisle.

 _Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom._

Five holes in his head.

Five holes in his heart.

Yes, her eyes were open now.

She sucked in a deep breath of air, removing her finger from where where it was positioned at the trigger.

She knew she needed to stop.

The attack had been five years ago.

She was _fine._ Everything was _fine._

The bruises had faded, as had the sleepless nights. Long ago. She had clawed and fought her way through until it had become just a faint memory.

 _You're fine,_ she thought, continuing her inner monologue and trying to convince herself that there was truth to it.

She was just feeling unsettled from her move.

She had left everything that was comfortable behind, and she was essentially starting over in a new city. She was just letting the feelings of uncertainty blur until they reappeared as feelings of fear.

But she had _nothing_ to fear.

But then, she remembered the note. The small white piece of paper, no bigger than the side of an index card, that laid tucked in it's torn envelope at the bottom of her Clothes over Bros purse.

The note with four words written haphazardly across the lines, strewn and sloppy like the author had written them quickly. Erratically.

 _Fuck it_ , she thought, placing her fingers squarely back on the trigger. She let the feel of the cold metal and the weight of it against her hands relax her, before she pulled against in again.

 _Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom._

She hit the target in the center of the chest.

Because even if she didn't have anything to fear...

It was better to be safe than sorry.

 _Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom._

Jay Halstead removed his goggles before pressing the button that moved the paper offender into to view.

He smiled when he saw that he hadn't missed his mark. All five bullets that he had discharged had fallen into a straight line, straight down the center of the body.

For recertification, it was a requirement that all bullets to fall into the center. But today, he was just shooting to blow off some steam, and he preferred to hit each black line until it tore apart, creating a tear in the smooth ink, breaking the smooth, round circle.

"Rough day?" He heard Antonio Dawson's voice as he removed the ear protecting head phones that had been covering his ears.

He put the safety on the gun and placed it down on the counter before turning to face his former partner. "You could say that," was all he said, because he honestly didn't feel like getting into it.

He had woken up two hours earlier this morning, trying to release some of the tension before another long day at work. But it wasn't exactly working like he had hoped it would.

Maybe tomorrow he would go to the boxing gym. Maybe sparring against someone would lift his mood, or at least get out of some of his aggression and irritation.

"Want to talk to about it?" Antonio asked, holstering his weapon against his pants. Jay hadn't expected to run into anyone this early in the morning at the gun range, but knowing Antonio, he probably _had_ come for recertification.

He never needed to let off steam like this.

What did it say about Jay that the time he had spent the gun range wasn't enough? That he needed to visit Dawson's boxing gym because right now he just felt like punching something?

Nothing good. Of that, he was sure. "Not really," he answered, as he pressed the button once again to slide the paper target back into place.

But, Antonio was one of his best friends, and he wasn't about to let up that easily. "You'll find the right fit."

 _Easy for you to say,_ Jay thought, as he placed the goggles back over his face. But he refrained from saying it out loud, knowing it wasn't exactly fair. Antonio had been called up to work at the district's attorney's office. He had worked hard, and _really_ deserved it.

And it wasn't Antonio's fault that Hank Voight had assigned him awful partner after awful partner.

So instead, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "I hope so," before recovering his ears.

Jay's last partner, in a long string of new partners, had put in his notice to switch units yesterday afternoon.

It hadn't been Jay's fault. The young officer hadn't really understood the way the Intelligence unit was run, and it just hadn't been the right fit.

So Jay may have _encouraged_ him to switch units.

Okay, _pushed._ Jay had pushed him.

But, so what?

He was just looking out for the young male officer. This guy was so _positive_ and happy. He was a newlywed, he had a baby on the way.

He just didn't _belong._

He had been doing him a favor.

But of course, Hank Voight hadn't seen it that way. He thought Jay was just cycling through another partner, waiting and hoping for Antonio to return.

And that wasn't it. Well, not exactly.

It was just...

Jay knew this unit would ruin him.

 _Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom._

Of course, this unit fit Jay like a glove.

He had known that since his very first case. He remembered the brutal double murder, the way the second body had been beaten and battered until it was barely recognizable.

He had known since he first watched Hank Voight throw a suspect into the cage, pinning him against the metal chained wall. He had known this was the unit for him, that he would thrive there.

 _Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom._

Because you see, Jay had already been ruined.

xo

Let me know what you think ;) Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Hi all :) So glad you liked the first chapter! Here is chapter number 2 :) And the epilogue for Bless the Broken Road should be up tonight or tomorrow afternoon!

Happy reading!

 **Chapter 2,**

 _Why I am here?_

Brooke stood pacing the streets, willing herself to make a decision.

Go inside or go home.

 _Go home, Brooke._

She didn't need to be here. Everything was _fine._

Except, that mantra that she had been repeating to herself over and over didn't seem to be having the desired effect.

Instead, it was almost as if her body had a life of it's own. Even as her mind willed her body to lift her arm and beckon a taxi, her legs continued to pace along the sidewalk and her arms remained firmly in place.

She looked down at the concrete ground as she walked, stepping over the cracks in the sidewalk before she made it to the corner of the street. She stopped for a moment, watching the cars drive past. She watched as each car rushed through the intersection, either on their way somewhere or making the drive back home.

 _She_ should be making the drive back home.

But then, she turned around and walked the length of the sidewalk again.

With all the pounding her feet were doing, her stiletto heels were bound to snap in half.

Except, of course, they were excellent quality shoes, and it was more likely she was going to dig a hole in the concrete than break her Clothes over Bros black heels.

She made it to the other end of the sidewalk, keeping her head down the whole day, and then she pivoted once again, turning and retracing the same line.

Jesus. She had been at this for almost an hour.

She had meant to go home. After leaving the gun range, she had had every intention of calling a taxi and returning to her apartment. She had phone calls to make, appointments to confirm, things to do.

But Millicent could take care of those things. And more than that, her mind and body didn't seem be connected today, and then neither did her mind and her lips. Because when she had gotten into the taxi, instead of giving him her home address, she had ended up here.

Pacing outside District 21.

 _Go home_ , she willed herself, once again.

She shook her head, frustrated with herself. She was being _ridiculous._ Her apartment was perfectly safe.

 _She_ was perfectly safe.

Unless she wasn't?

 _And herein lies the problem,_ she thought, as she rolled her neck once again, trying to release at least _some_ of the tension.

It didn't work.

She cautiously ascended the stairs, pausing for a moment outside the large blue door. She took a calming breath and propelled herself forward.

When she walked inside, the lobby of District 21 was bustling unlike the quiet streets she had just left. For some reason, the noise of the large, busy room calmed her down. Her heartbeat seemed to slow closer to a regular pace as she took in her surroundings.

 _Safety in numbers,_ she thought.

That's just it, she realized. Even after the attack at Clothes over Bros in Tree Hill, she had had _people_ around. She had stayed closed off, of course, because it was very Brooke Davis not let to let anyone in to help her, but they had at least been _around._ She'd been able to find comfort in their presence, even if they hadn't known enough for her to find comfort in their words.

But now that Peyton and Lucas had moved to LA, Haley and Nathan had moved their family up to Charlotte, and she had chosen to relocate to Chicago to expand her business, she was completely and utterly alone.

She hadn't been this alone since she had moved to New York at 18.

"Can I help you?" A curt voice interrupted her streaming thoughts, and when Brooke looked up, she realized it belonged to a grey haired, stern looking woman.

"Yes," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she walked the several feet closer to the front desk. "Does Detective Hank Voight still work here?"

The lady gave her a once over, no doubt taking in her form-fitting dress and her high heels that clearly stuck out like a sore thumb. She almost explained, almost told her that she had a meeting this afternoon with the event planner to discuss her store's grand opening, but instead she just stood there silently. Because, honestly, she _always_ stuck out like a sore thumb.

When the woman was done with the once over, she narrowed her eyes and raised her eyebrow at the same time. "Who's asking?"

"Brooke Davis." As she answered, she couldn't decide if she wanted this woman to recognize her name or not. On the one hand, she craved anonymity, wanting to slide under the radar. She always had. But, on the other hand, if it helped her get what she wanted, then fine.

Brooke didn't see any recognition in her eyes, but the woman lifted the black phone and dialed just the same. "Hank," she said quietly into the phone. "There's a Brooke Davis downstairs, she's requesting to see you."

After a moment she hung up, giving Brooke another stern glare. " _Sergeant_ Voight will be down in a moment."

"Thanks," she replied quietly, moving towards the wooden bench to sit and wait. Then, she pulled her phone out of her purse, busying herself with unanswered text messages and emails just to avoid the woman's uncomfortable stare.

Hank Voight hung up the phone in his office and moved towards the door.

 _Brooke Davis_.

Well that wasn't a name he'd heard in quite some time.

Sure, he had followed her career a little. He could even admit to picking up the occasional tabloid when he saw on the cover. He had been happy to see that her career seemed to be soaring, but he'd been less happy to see the photos of with her new flavor of the month. She never seemed to stick with one person for long.

God, she had such a grand future ahead of her. But he just wished she realized careers can't be everything.

He should know.

When he opened the door, he noticed the bullpen was empty.

 _Good,_ he thought. He wasn't interested in this little impromptu visit inviting any questions.

It had been slow recently, and they hadn't had an active case in over a week. That always made him nervous, and so he had sent Burgess and Olinsky to canvas the neighborhoods, and he had sent Ruzek and Atwater to check in with their CIs.

That just left...

"Sarge," He turned at the sound, and noticed Halstead walking out of the break room, a mug of steaming coffee in hand.

"Halstead," he growled. "Just because you don't have a partner doesn't meant you're not supposed to be _working_."

Halstead sighed in frustration. He was _trying_ to work. It wasn't his fault Voight wouldn't let him canvas the streets alone. "I am just waiting on a call back from a couple of CIs." He kept his voice cool, even though he was burning with irritation. His day seemed to be getting shittier and shittier.

"Fine," Voight replied. He reasoned that since Halstead wasn't exactly interested in fashion, he likely wouldn't recognize Brooke anyway. "I'll be back."

A moment later, he opened the metal gate that separated the Intelligence unit from the rest of the precinct, and he laid his eyes on Brooke Davis.

He couldn't help the smile that graced his lips. She may be powerful and successful now, but damn it, she looked the exact same.

"Brooke," he said when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

He wasn't surprised when she jumped off the bench and moved into him, hugging him fiercely. She had _always_ been a hugger.

Although as he held her, he stole a glance at Platt, who in fact seemed _very_ surprised.

She pulled away, and looked up at him. "Sergeant, huh?"

"Well we can't all be fashion designers and multi-million dollar business owners," he replied, his voice full of mirth.

She hadn't heard his voice in years, but at the familiar gruffness, she finally felt her body completely relax. As the tension of the day seemed to fade, she smiled at him gratefully and followed him as he directed her towards the stairs. "Let's go to my office," he said.

When they got to the top of the stairs, Hank noticed that Halstead must have stepped out for a moment. He was glad when they walked the length of the bullpen alone.

With Brooke safely inside his office, he closed the door and motioned for her to sit. "What's up, kid?" Not that he wasn't happy to see her, but he had given her his card _years_ ago, and she had never used it. Not once.

"Nothing," she answered immediately.

In the time it took to walk from the downstairs lobby to his office, she realized she was _definitely_ overreacting. Her cheeks flushed when she realized how stupid this was all going to sound.

Hank Voight was a big shot Sergeant now. He seemingly had the only office in this whole place. He didn't have time for things as small and irrelevant as this. _Damn it,_ she thought. _This is so embarrassing._ "I just moved here. I thought I'd check out your new digs," she said, trying to recover. She smiled, relieved and thinking she had done a pretty good job.

Except Hank Voight read people for a living. "Brooke," he said, tilting his head and letting her know he in _no way_ believed her. "What's up?" He repeated the question, hoping for a different, more honest answer this time around.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wishing she could slip under the large wooden desk and hide from his steely gaze. But she knew she couldn't, and so she pulled her oversized purse onto her lap and began to rummage through it.

It took her several moments, but when she found what she was looking for she pulled the bent envelope out of her purse and handed it to him. She couldn't find the words to explain it, so she just held her breath and quietly waited for his response.

He opened the envelope and took out the small slip of paper. The one that had been haunting her since she got it.

How was it something that tiny could affect her this much?

"Where did you get this?" He asked, slipping into the no nonsense detective she recognized from years ago. He then lifted his eyes from the paper to find her face.

"I've gotten notes like that before," she said dismissively, trying to dodge his question. She had been a celebrity for close to 8 years now. Her New York office was _full_ of notes like these. The stationary may be different, the scrawl might have been neater, straighter, bigger, or smaller, or the letter may have been typed.

But the message was always the same.

"Hundreds of times." _Thousands._

But of course, even as she spoke the words, she knew this one was different.

He placed the small paper note face down on his desk, and once again lifted the white envelope she had bent in half. He touched it gingerly, as if it would fall apart if his fingers pressed too hard. "Did it come like this?"

It was crinkled and bent, and a little worse for wear. The corner was torn and it had her smudged finger prints on it, and maybe some pen marks from an open pen that laid at the bottom of her large bag.

So no, it hadn't _really_ come like that.

But then, she knew what he was asking. She knew what he was _thinking._

She had been thinking it, too.

"Yeah," she finally revealed.

"It doesn't have an address on it," Voight said, as if she hadn't already known that.

As if that wasn't the _reason_ she was here.

"Right," she whispered.

This time, the threatening letter hadn't come to her corporate office. It hadn't been analyzed for harmful chemicals before being read and filed in a metal cabinet in New York. The post office hadn't been notified, and they hadn't retraced the envelopes journey and tried to check up on the address and identity of the sender.

No, none of that.

This one had been slipped under her door.

And this sender knew where she lived.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review : )**


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys :) I am so glad you are enjoying this story! It has already been so much fun to write :)

I hope you enjoy this next chapter! Happy reading :)

 **Chapter 3,**

Jay had been hiding in the locker room for the past 20 minutes, staring and waiting for his cell phone to ring. He _needed_ one of his CIs to get back to him.

Not because he had any specific information he was hoping to garner, but rather because he wanted his boss to know that he really _was_ working.

And, of course, he wanted to contribute something.

But then, most of all, he just _really_ needed something to do. Something to take his mind off the fact that he was _partnerless_ in a unit that required a partner.

Sitting at his desk while the other members of the unit were canvasing the city, it was _torture._ This hadn't been what he'd signed up for.

And it hadn't been what Voight had signed up for either, he knew, and he sincerely hoped Voight wouldn't decide to fire him.

What if Voight realized the unit operated just as effectively with 5 people, instead of the usual 7?

God, he _really_ missed Dawson.

When Jay heard the sound of footsteps approaching, he stood quickly from the bench, not wanting his boss to find him sitting and wasting away.

He moved towards the sink, bumping into a low wooden bench in his haste. He wanted it to seem as though he had just left the bathroom stall and was washing his hands.

His boss might buy that.

Well, actually, probably not. But it was definitely better than nothing.

"Yo, Halstead."

When he heard the voice from behind his shoulders relaxed considerably. It was just Ruzek.

Jay turned around, "Hey," he sighed. "Find out anything good?" Jay couldn't decide if he wanted the answer to be a resounding 'yes', or a small shrug and a 'no'. He knew he shouldn't let his fear of being useless cloud his work, but at this point, he was pretty sure he was hoping for the latter.

He dried his now twice cleaned hands with a paper towel, and moved towards Ruzek. Now that the team was back, he was eager to get out of this room and return to his desk.

Because at the very least, there was _always_ safety in numbers.

When they walked back to the bullpen, he noticed that the whole team had returned in his absence. Burgess was leaning against Atwater's desk, and they both seemed to be whispering and gesturing towards Voight's office.

He followed their gazes until he saw what they were looking at. Voight seemed to be in some closed door meeting. He didn't recognize the thin brunette, but then again, he could only see the back of her head. Her slim shoulders were bare, with only tiny purple straps running over them, and her long brown hair seemed to curl casually down as it flowed halfway down her back.

"What's up?" He asked quietly, shifting his head and gesturing in the direction of Voight's office.

"Burgess thinks that that's Brooke Davis in there with Voight," Atwater explained.

The name sounded _vaguely_ familiar, but Jay couldn't place it. "Okay?" He drew out the word, letting them know he meant it as a question.

"Brooke Davis," Kim said her name again, as if it should register. He let the name bounce around his brain, trying to remember the names of perps, victims, or family members they had recently come into contact with.

He was usually pretty good at remembering the victims, their names and faces forever etched into his mind.

And he _never_ forgot the family members. Sometimes when he closed his eyes to sleep, he could still _hear_ them. The audible gasp when they heard their loved one was injured or dead, the inevitable cry that always followed.

It had been worse when he was in the military. Much worse.

But he'd also be lying if he said being a Chicago detective was a walk in the park.

So, that just left the perps.

And even without seeing her face, she didn't _look_ like any offender he'd ever seen.

So he just raised an eyebrow, letting Burgess know that her statement did nothing to answer his question.

"She _owns_ Clothes over Bros,"Kim explained, finally. "It's a fashion label, and it's _huge._ "

Ah. Well, at least now he knew where he had heard her name. Shelby, a bartender and his latest in a long string of one night stands, had been a _serious_ fan.

Well, that wasn't fair actually. Jay had had a long string of _several_ night stands. He had slept with Shelby a least five times before she had given him the _look_ and he had let her go.

God, he _hated_ that look. He hated when fun turned into _'I want something more.'_

He didn't want something more.

Because what did something more get you?

At that thought, his mind flashed to his best friend. To his smiling face. And then it flashed to his best friend's wife.

To her face.

Her face the day the army handed her that goddamned folded flag.

And in her broken face, he saw the answer.

What did something more get you?

 _Nothing but pain._

"What do you think she's doing here?" Burgess's voice interrupted his downward spiral, and for that he was grateful.

See, this was the problem with not having a partner. He had too much fucking time on his hands. And he had learned a long time ago when he was a Ranger in the military that time was _never_ a good thing.

"Who knows," he said, dismissively. He considered the question further though, as he watched her run a perfectly manicured hand slowly through her hair. Now that he thought about it, he maybe, very vaguely remembered Shelby talking about Brooke Davis moving to Chicago. She had been pretty excited about it, he remembered.

But then, he had only been half listening.

"I hope I get to meet her," Kim said excitedly. "I just _love_ her clothes. And I heard she's actually _really_ nice."

He snorted at that, tired and failed to stifle an eye roll. Celebrities were _never_ nice. And as far as he was concerned, fashion designers were likely the worst of them all. Prissy and judgmental and materialistic and shallow and just plain _irritating_.

Kind of like Shelby, he thought.

"Don't believe everything you read," he said, as he moved back towards his desk, eager to leave this conversation. No doubt this Brooke Davis had probably done some charity nonsense for publicity, and her rep had probably made sure it made it into every tabloid.

Like he said, shallow.

Burgess rolled her eyes back, knowing she wasn't going to win that argument. Especially today, when he was more than likely radiating his awful mood.

When he finally made it back to his desk to reach out to the last two CIs on his list, Voight's office door opened.

Out walked the most beautiful brunette he had ever seen. The brown curls that had flowed past her shoulders were now swept up in a loose pony tail, but there were still some stray pieces cascading down the side. The sleeveless purple dress she was wearing hugged her curves and revealed slim, sexy shoulders. The black strappy heels highlighted her toned and tanned legs.

Her beautiful hazel eyes, no doubt her best feature, seemed soft and genuine, and her lips were curved into a nervous smile.

 _God,_ he thought. _Of course she has to be the hottest fucking girl I've ever seen._

That irritated him even more.

She was probably just another stunningly beautiful celebrity who skated through life, always on top of the fucking world.

People like her had people constantly fawning all over them, never having to lift a fucking finger in their perfect fucking lives.

 _Jesus,_ he thought, as he watched her move gracefully behind Voight. _You need to chill out._

He knew he was just having a rough day, taking out his irritation on an easy target.

"Halstead," His boss barked his name, and he shifted his gaze immediately, hoping Voight hadn't caught him staring. "It's time for you to finally start earning that paycheck."

But what he didn't know was that his day was about to get a whole lot rougher.

xoxo

Please Review !


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4,**

When Brooke had followed Hank Voight out of his office and into the bullpen, she hadn't known what to expect. She had hoped the bullpen would still be empty, as bare as they had been twenty minutes ago when she walked through.

But unfortunately for her, it wasn't still empty, and to say she felt uncomfortable would be a _huge_ understatement.

Worse than uncomfortable, she felt foolish.

Brooke _knew_ she was overreacting, and now there was going to a room full of people who knew it, too.

When she moved towards the white board, the rest of the room came into view. What had been a quiet, unoccupied room only twenty minutes ago was now full. There was a body seated at, or standing by, every desk.

Well, every desk except the one closest to the white board. But that one seemed completely abandoned, stripped of any personal affects, and she reasoned that no one would be coming to sit there.

To the right of that desk sat a rather large, African-American man in street clothes. He was sitting and leaning back comfortably in his chair. He had, until only moments ago, seemed to be deep in conversation with a brunette, who was now gaping at her excitedly.

Well, she thought, at the very least _that_ look felt familiar.

Across the narrow hallway from the two of them sat another man, this one with scruffy light brown hair. She couldn't be sure, but he seemed to be the youngest male of the group.

Behind him sat the oldest of the group. Well, other than possibly Hank. He was wearing a dark grey colored beanie, which struck her as odd, because they were inside. He had a long defined mustache, with the rest of his facial hair only slightly overgrown.

And then, standing closest to her and Hank on her left, was the last member of the team.

He was striking. She never used that word, but for some reason, it was the first word that came to mind.

The word _good looking_ did not do this man justice. He was leaning against his desk in a relaxed stance, and with his arms crossed she could clearly see the bulge of his muscles through the light grey of his long-sleeved shirt. He had what seemed to be a five o'clock shadow on his chiseled jaw and his eyes were as deep and blue as the ocean.

She may have called him handsome, or - who was she kidding - _sexy_ , and she may have even been attracted to him, if not for the angry scowl that seemed to be permanently etched on his perfect face.

She could _feel_ him staring at her. _Judging_ her.

And while she had been fully prepared for the team to judge her for her absurd overreaction to this harmless little note, she had assumed the judgement would come _after_ they actually knew about it. But this person - or this detective, she reasoned - seem to be irritated with her just for her mere presence in the room.

She tried to move her gaze away, but she could still see him staring in her peripheral vision.

God, she did _not_ need this right now.

"Halstead," she heard Detective Voight - actually, _Sergeant_ Voight _-_ say to someone. "It's time for you to finally start earning that paycheck." When she turned to look at Hank and saw that he was staring at _him -_ the angry, judgmental, scowling man, who now she was willing to admit _was_ actually _really_ sexy - her heart sank.

 _No,_ she thought. _Anyone but him._

"What's up, boss?" He straightened when he asked the question, as if he hadn't wanted his boss to catch him staring at her. How come he didn't care that _she_ had caught him staring at her? _Ass hole,_ she thought.

Voight ignored Halstead momentarily, and turned to the rest of the team. She braced herself, knowing he was about to retell her words to these strangers. When she had been in the confines of Hank's office, she felt safe. But now, she felt unbelievably exposed.

"This is Brooke Davis," Hank began. Then he turned to her, "Brooke, this is Kevin Atwater, Kim Burgess, Adam Ruzek, Alvin Olinsky, and Jay Halstead." Hank finished gesturing to each member of his team, and they all nodded and smiled in greeting.

Well, all but _Jay Halstead_ , who seemed to be frozen, leaning against his desk with baited breath, waiting to hear his assignment.

Once again, though, he was going to have to wait.

Hank continued, facing the entire team. "Brooke received a note late last night, and I'm concerned," his voice seemed gruffer and deeper out here in the bullpen, Brooke thought, now that Hank was talking to his team. It was more commanding. Scarier, too, she admitted.

"What kind of note?" The older man - who she tried to remember, and thought was Alvin Olinsky - asked, as he moved out of his small alcove and closer to the center of the bullpen.

Instead of answering right away, Hank turned and smacked the small, white loose leaf note onto the large white board. It was stuck to the middle of the board with a small piece of clear tape, and Erin was astounded by how _tiny_ the note seemed against the expanse of the rectangle board.

 _Tiny,_ she thought. _Inconsequential._

 _It is not a cause for concern,_ she thought, trying to convince herself once again.

But then Hank turned and said the words aloud, and a chill ran through her body until it reached her bones.

"It said _'I've been watching you.'"_ The writing was sloppy and disorganized, but what _wasn't_ sloppy and disorganized was the large heart that surrounded the lettering, drawn in bright red ink. The same bright red she had almost put on her lips this morning, before deciding it wasn't the right color for the gun range.

"I'm sure she gets notes like that all the time." Brooke turned at the sound of Jay's voice, and she had to take a deep, calming breath when she heard his dismissive tone.

And what about the way he had said _she?_

As if she wasn't even standing in the room.

As if she was just some stupid celebrity.

As if she wasn't even a _real_ person.

As if she wasn't fucking terrified.

God, what a _dick._

"She does," Hank agreed, seemingly just as irritated as she was. "But this one was slipped under her door."

"So this guy knows where you live, then?" She was pretty sure that question had come from Adam Ruzek, and she immediately took a liking to him. The question was so damn validating, as was the nervous glances he was sending Hank's way.

Validating, but terrifying, of course.

"Right." Hank answered, glad his team had been quickly brought up to speed.

"Okay," Olinsky said slowly, letting that sink in. "So what do we know?"

"Have there been any other notes?" Brooke noticed that the lone female member of the unit finally seemed to push past her excitement at seeing _the_ Brooke Davis, and had finally decided to join the conversation.

"No," Brooke replied, sheepishly.

"So, just the one?" Halstead interjected.

His dismissive and bored tone were _seriously_ starting to grate on her nerves. Hadn't she _just_ answered that question. "Yes," she said, barely bothering to look in his direction, instead turning and keeping her eyes squarely on the paper note.

Except, that didn't do much for her nerves either.

The questions began to come fast, and she began to do her best to answer them.

"Did you recognize the handwriting?" That one came from Kevin Atwater.

"No," she replied, trying to keep her tone cool and calm.

"Any chance the note was for someone else?" Adam Ruzek questioned. "Do you live alone?"

Hank decided to field that question for her. "Brooke just officially moved here last week." He used the word officially because she had just explained to him that for the past month she had been flying back and forth between Tree Hill, New York, and Chicago getting her affairs in order and readying herself for the move. She had been staying in a hotel downtown, until she _finally_ found an apartment she loved and had put in an offer. "She lives alone."

Ugh. Brooke hated that word.

 _Alone_.

She hated how affected she was by that small, seemingly insignificant word. She hated the way it completely reflected how she felt.

 _Alone_.

At first, she had been excited about the move. When Peyton and Lucas had moved to Los Angeles, she had stayed in Tree Hill another six months. But with them gone, she had gone from feeling like part of a big group to a third wheel to Haley and Nathan and their family.

Even if she had always been the _fifth_ wheel, it was just so much less evident before.

And then, Haley and Nathan had opted to move, too. Nathan was an NBA player for the Charlotte Bobcats, and the distance had been unbelievably difficult for him and his family.

So only a month later, she found herself completely alone.

She began to look for her job to fill that void, the same way it had in New York when she was 18 years old and starting her fashion label in the big city.

But for some reason, moving to Chicago hadn't brought on the same excitement that moving to New York had.

That void now seemed... well, unavoidable.

"What about other deliveries?" Olinsky asked.

"Other deliveries?" She asked, glad his question had interrupted her introspective pity party.

"You know, like flowers or chocolates left without a note?" He explained further. "Or a letter, but sent in the actual mail?"

"What about phone calls?" Burgess interrupted. "Anyone called and hung up lately?"

Brooke's head was spinning as she tried to piece together the questions they were asking. "Um..." she considered the bouquet that had shown up three days ago. "Flowers," she finally admitted. "They were delivered to my new store location." She shifted uncomfortably, lifting one black heel off the ground and then the other. She _hated_ the way they all seemed to be staring at her, their eyes full of pity and concern. Well, except for Jay, of course, who's eyes she was still avoiding.

"The opening is supposed to be next week," she said, explaining further. She had thought they had been delivered by Peyton or Haley as a good luck present. She had been incredibly touched, especially considering she hadn't even told them the opening date.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"What about letters in the mail?" The question that had first been offered by Olinsky, was now being repeated by Kevin Atwater.

Brooke shifted her eyes to the ceiling, the way she did whenever she was deep in thought. "Not in the past four days," she said, trying to remember exactly when she had began forwarding her mail from Tree Hill to Chicago. "Any mail I received before that though, at least in the past three weeks, is at the post office in Tree Hill." She paused, now finding Atwater's eyes once again. "My assistant is bringing all of that with her tomorrow."

Even with her hazel eyes squarely on Atwater, she heard the sigh and she could _see_ Jay's eye roll that immediately followed mention of Brooke's assistant.

 _Dick,_ she thought, once again.

Hank's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Ruzek, Atwater," Brooke noticed the way everyone stood more upright as Hank started issuing demands. "Go to Brooke's apartment. I want all the video surveillance footage from the last week." They began to move from their seats and began readying themselves to leave. "She lives on the third floor, but there's four elevators in the front, and two in the back, and I want all the stairwells, too."

"Sure thing, boss," Ruzek said on their way out.

"Burgess, Olinsky," Hank shifted his gaze to the next two members of the unit. "Go to Brooke's store," he said, as he handed them a slip of paper with the address she had written down for him. "I want the whole place swept."

Then he turned to Brooke and asked, "Are the flowers still there?"

"Uh," she considered the question, trying to remember what she had done with the beautiful bouquet of gerber daisies. Had she brought them home?

No. "Yeah," she nodded, finally remembering where she had put them. "They're in my office, it's in the back of the store."

Then she moved towards them, handing them the spare set of keys. The _last_ thing she needed was them breaking down the beautiful, original wooden doors this close to the opening.

She watched as they shuffled out behind Ruzek and Atwater, eager to approach their assigned task.

"Sarge?" Brooke finally allowed herself to rest her gaze on Jay. He seemed confused, but more so annoyed by his clear lack of assignment. "What am-"

"Don't worry, Halstead," Hank said, cutting him off. "I was just getting there."

Brooke noticed that Hank seemed to almost be _enjoying_ Jay's discomfort. Almost like he was punishing him.

"You are going to escort Ms. Davis to her meeting this afternoon," he said, adding a smirk at the end of the sentiment.

 _Jesus,_ Brooke thought, now unsure of _who_ exactly Hank was trying to punish.

00000000000

Only a few moments later, Brooke slipped into the passenger seat of the black car. It was clean and comfortable, but she still wished she had driven. She missed her sleek silver Audi, the one that she had yet to bring over from Tree Hill.

But it wasn't just the slightly worn and cozy car, with its large leather seats and familiar scent. No that wasn't it at all.

It was being a passenger.

A passenger in Jay Halstead's vehicle. She had never felt _less_ in control.

Aside from exchanging a casual, if not strained greeting, Brooke and Jay hadn't spoken a single word. She had watched as he slid on his dark leather jacket that made him look even sexier goddammit, and then she had wordlessly followed him down the stairs.

He had yet to _really_ look at her, but just like the shocked and excited glance she recognized from Kim Burgess earlier in the bullpen, she recognized this familiar look, too.

It was the _you're an entitled celebrity_ look.

It was superiority, with a subtle hint of condescension.

It was obnoxious, and judgmental, and _completely_ false.

"Brooke?"

He said her name like it was a bad word, and she wanted to flinch. "What?" She said, meaning to keep her voice flat, but not being able to stop the slight edge that came out.

"I can't _go_ until you tell me where we're _going._ "

He seemed to be stifling the urge to roll his eyes, which she found to be fitting, because was currently stifling the urge to punch him in the face.

 _God,_ she thought, for maybe the fifth time that day. _What a dick._

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Twenty minutes later, Jay pulled the car up to the curb in front of 45 Wilcott Street, as instructed by a very quiet, very _still_ Brooke Davis.

She had been so quiet since she delivered the store's address that several times during the drive he had had to stifle the urge to look in her direction and make sure she was still there.

But, of course, he knew she was still there. Because every time he shifted his gaze even slightly in her direction, to switch lanes or check for oncoming traffic as he made a turn, he would get a look at her long, toned legs, and he would have to _force_ himself to look away. It took every ounce of self control he had to focus his eyes back on the road instead of focusing on the way her daintily crossed legs caused her dress to rise up revealing even more of her thigh.

 _Jesus_ , he thought. _Stop_.

Jay couldn't blame her for her silence, or her icy attitude. He knew he had been obnoxious, and he had regretted his tone almost immediately after he had spoken. But he hadn't been able to bring himself to apologize or even address it.

And even as he opened his mouth to speak, Brooke was silently opening the door and sliding gracefully out of the car, without so much as a glance in his direction.

 _Well_ , he reasoned, _there is nothing I can do about it now._

He took his time turning off the ignition and getting out of the car himself, so by the time he reached the large doors, Brooke had already unlocked them and moved inside.

He took a moment to stand outside the building and admire it. It was sleek and modern, while at the same time, it managed to have a historic feel. He could tell the large, wooden doors were original to the building, and when he walked inside, he noticed that the crown moldings in the ceilings seemed original, too.

It was a large space, and it seemed clean and well taken care of.

 _She's probably had hundreds of workers through here to make it look like this,_ he thought as he moved further into the room and saw the way to wooden floors seemed to shine.

"What time is your meeting?" He asked, checking his watch in what he hoped was a casual gesture. She seemed to flinch at the sound of his voice, and he couldn't blame her for that either.

Brooke wasn't wearing a watch, he noticed, and so she dug into her large purse to find her phone. How she found anything in a bag that big was beyond him.

"Now," she replied, when she noticed it was already 1:00.

She hadn't uttered a word in so long he almost forgot how raspy and sexy her voice was. "Okay," he said, shifting uncomfortably.

He _really_ wished there was furniture in here. A chair, a table, a bench, a lamp, something, _anything_ to use as a separation between him and Brooke.

Something to block his view so he didn't have to see the way her legs looked in that dress, or the way her hair shined when it caught the light. Or the way her hazel eyes seemed to quite literally _sparkle._

"I'm going to head back to my office," she said, interrupting his thoughts.

 _Thank God,_ he thought, glad to have some distance from her. But then he stopped, realizing this was _still_ his job. "Hold on," he said, moving past her. "Let me sweep it first."

She seemed to regard him warily, as if she really wanted to say no but was also a little afraid of what he might find during his sweep. "Okay," she said finally.

He moved with her to her office, allowing her to direct him but still standing beside her protectively. Celebrity or not, entitled brat or not, sexy as fuck or not - this was still his job.

When they finally passed through the narrow hallway and her office came into view, he was surprised to see how much _stuff_ was in the room. While the large room in the front had been completely bare, this room looked like it had been inhabited for months. _Years_ even.

And this room looked well taken care of, too, he noticed. The large white desk in the center gleamed, and it had sketches spread all across it. There were several mannequins in the corner with various fabrics pinned to them, there was more fabrics taped in a line against the back wall, and then there were stacks and stacks of magazines on two white side tables.

And then there was the large vase of red, yellow, and orange flowers displayed proudly on the desk. He noticed the way Brooke shivered slightly when her gaze fell on the flowers, and for some reason, he suddenly had the urge to reach for.

 _Where had that come from?_ He thought.

He pushed the thought out of his head, and checked his watch again. "She's 10 minutes late," he said, this time trying to keep his voice calm.

She just gave him a soft smile and shrugged her shoulders, and moved towards her desk. She opened one of the thin metal drawers and pulled out a medium-sized white binder. She opened it and flipped through the first few pages, but then she must have deemed everything in order, because after a few moments and no clear changes, she closed the binder and placed it on the desk.

As a soldier and as a detective, Jay had been trained for _years_ to learn body language. He could look at a person and immediately tell when they were trying to hide something, he could tell when they were feeling stressed or nervous or unsteady or downright terrified.

And so it wasn't abnormal for him to notice the way Brooke seemed to visibly relax in this room. The way her shoulders seemed to rest more comfortably, the way her uncomfortable shifting from foot to foot and her fidgeting seemed to completely disappear, or the way the mere presence of her sketches, her fabrics, her _things,_ seemed to calm her nerves.

Well, at least that's what he told himself.

He was about to open his mouth to speak again when he heard a voice call out. "Brooke?"

"Back here," she replied, raising her low, raspy voice to what could almost be considered a yell.

Only a moment later, a short, thin woman shuffled in. Her blond hair was thrown in a messy pony tail, her large beige purse was falling off of her shoulder, and she looked _completely_ frazzled.

"Brooke," she said, seemingly out of breath. She also seemed to have a thin layer of sweat coating her, Jay noticed. "I am _so_ sorry I'm late. My daughter left her stuffed animal at-"

"Cara," she said, and once again, Jay was shocked when he heard how calm her voice sounded. She sounded completely different than she had when she'd been answering question after question in the bullpen earlier this afternoon. "It's fine," she shook her head dismissively. "Seriously, don't worry about it at all. Your daughter comes first."

Jay was even more taken aback and surprised by Brooke's easy dismissal. Even _he_ had been slightly irritated by the wait. And he could only imagine that Brooke Davis was certainly not a person many people kept waiting. He'd expected her to be angry, to go on some sort of tirade about how precious her time was.

But she did no such thing. "I have my plans right here," Brooke said, her voice still completely calm.

She continued to talk to Cara, and because she was facing slightly away from him and was now deep in conversation, Jay allowed himself to look at her. To _really_ look at her. To watch the way she ran her fingers through her hair as she contemplated Cara's questions. To watch the slow smile that spread across her lips when she liked one of her ideas. To watch the way her face lit up at something Cara said.

 _God,_ he thought. Her eyes really did sparkle.

0000000000000

By the time Jay and Brooke returned to the district, the entire team was back in the bullpen, and to Jay's disappointment, there was almost nothing new written on the board.

"Someone who works there must know _something,_ " Hank was saying, his voice even more aggressive and angry than usual.

"What's going on?" Jay asked Ruzek quietly, as he watched Hank continue on his tirade.

"The video footage blacked out for ten minutes early this morning," Ruzek explained. "We weren't able to get anything."

"Damn," Jay sighed. Hank was right, though. Someone who works there _had_ to know something. Someone had to have turned off those cameras.

Jay turned to look at Burgess as she began to speak. She was ready to move on from the Ruzek and Atwater's discoveries and ready to launch into what she and Olinsky had found. "There was no card with the flowers, but there was a small tag taped to the flower food. It said they were purchased at Kelly's Florist on Bleaker." She moved around her desk, raising her voice slightly to make sure everyone was listening. "We went over there and talked to the owner, and she said the flowers weren't from there."

"How can they be sure?" Jay asked, remembering that the flowers were still in Brooke's office. They hadn't actually brought the flowers with them, so how would the florist have known?

"They've been closed all week in preparation for a wedding," Burgess explained. "And because they only stocked flowers for the wedding, they haven't had red, orange, or yellow gerber daisies in stock in almost two weeks."

"So then, what?" Ruzek asked, his voice incredulous. "He bought the flowers somewhere else, took off the card, but thought to put a sticker on the flower food to make it seem like it came from somewhere else?"

Jay couldn't blame Ruzek for his disbelieving tone. It _did_ seem like a stretch.

"I don't know," Burgess admitted.

They seemed to be getting nowhere.

"Brooke," Hank interrupted the conversation, and everyone turned to look at her. Jay noticed the way her cheeks reddened and saw that she seemed to have lost the casual confidence she had exuded at her store. "I want you to stay in a hotel tonight. Someone at your apartment building allowed those cameras to be turned off, and I don't want you there until I know who it was."

"Okay," she agreed immediately, and Jay could sense her escalating uneasiness. Was it uneasiness from being stared at by a group of people she had just met this morning or was it a growing sense of fear?

He reasoned that it was more than likely a little bit of both.

"I'll take you over there myself," he finished. Hank disappeared into his office to grab his jacket, and when he returned he announced to the team, "You're all done for the day." Then he turned to Halstead, "Brooke will lock the door behind me at the hotel, and you will pick her up _at her door_ in the morning." He kept his voice commanding, letting Jay know this particular point was _not_ up for discussion.

Jay wasn't about to argue, and so he just nodded.

He watched as Hank placed a comforting hand on Brooke's shoulder before they turned and moved together towards the stairs, and for the first time all day, he allowed himself to wonder how on _earth_ Brooke Davis and Hank Voight even knew each other in the first place.

He was still staring at them when he noticed Hank stop and say something to Brooke, and while she kept going, he suddenly turned around.

"Halstead," Hank said, doubling back until he reached Jay's desk once again. "I'm going to need you to drop the attitude before tomorrow morning."

 _Shit._ "Yes, sir."

000000000000

Several hours later, Jay was sitting on his couch, slowly nursing a beer, and staring at his phone. He was trying to make the bottle of Sam Adams last, forcing himself to take only small sips.

Winding down with a beer after work was one thing, and maybe even two was okay. But at a certain number of drinks - what number, he wasn't exactly sure - but at a certain number of drinks, you were no longer winding down from work. Instead, you were just drinking alone.

And he didn't allow himself to do that anymore.

 _I'm going to need you to drop the attitude before tomorrow morning._

He closed his eyes and took another small sip of his beer, savoring the cold liquid on his tongue.

He was going to have to apologize to Brooke Davis, he realized.

He thought back to the meeting at Brooke's store. He allowed himself to revisit her easy dismissal of Cara's late arrival and the amount of work she had clearly put into the meeting.

She hadn't seemed like an entitled brat. She hadn't seemed like the rude, demanding celebrity he had considered to be.

She actually seemed _kind_ ; genuine, even.

Yes, he was going to have to apologize.

Well, if not apologize, he would at least be civil.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed and the backlight came to life. He didn't recognize the number, and so he hoped for the best. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jay," He allowed his shoulders to sag with relief at the sound of Mouse's voice on the other end of the line.

 _Finally._ "How are you, man?" It had been two weeks since Mouse had called last. It had been almost two months since Mouse had been deployed to Afghanistan, after having been stationed at Fort Bragg in North Carolina for the several months before that.

"Good," he said. "I'm really good." Jay was surprised by how much it sounded like Mouse _really_ meant it.

He couldn't even imagine. If he had to go back to Afghanistan again, he wasn't sure he'd ever be _good_ again.

He wasn't sure he was _good_ right now.

They spoke for a couple more minutes, but then Mouse had said he had to go. Jay envisioned the long line of people standing behind him waiting to call home to speak to their loved ones. He remembered how often he had used that phone in the beginning.

He also remembered the day he had stopped, the day he had realized it was easier not to use that phone at all.

As soon as he hung up, Jay finally allowed himself to acknowledge the real reason for his recent dark mood.

It wasn't Dawson leaving two months ago.

It wasn't the three other partners he had tried and failed to work with since.

No, it wasn't any of them.

It was him. Him and mouse.

In the last seven years, he hadn't let himself think about his time in the military. When he came home that final time, after his second tour, he flew across the country to pay his respects to all the families of the friends he had lost, and then he put it all in a box and shoved it into the back of his brain.

Then, he had drowned himself in alcohol and he had never revisited the box again.

He didn't work through it. He never could.

But then, Mouse had decided to leave the Intelligence Unit and sign back up for another tour. And it wasn't so much a trigger as a key. A key that unlocked the box he had neatly tucked away, and sprinkled the contents all over his brain.

 _I'm going to need you to drop the attitude before tomorrow morning._

 _Fuck it,_ he thought. And then he stood and moved towards the kitchen, in search of another beer.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review!**

Just a note here: The last part of this chapter was PARTIALLY about my frustrations with the recent CPD storyline. In my mind, it's good that Jay is finally trying to deal with everything that happened, and if he needs space to do it than that is okay, too (I wish the writers would handle the storyline better and not delete important scenes, but that's a whole other discussion). BUT, I really think if something was going to trigger his PTSD it would have been Mouse leaving! So in my story, that's exactly what happened :) I hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Chapter 6

Happy reading :)

 **Chapter 6**

The next morning, Jay drove over to the downtown hotel Brooke had been staying out, resolved to work through his anger and not let his issues affect his work. And at the top of his to do list was to make things right with Brooke Davis.

He had stopped off at his local coffee shop and picked up a large coffee and a large latte on his way over. He wasn't sure what she would prefer, so he opted to buy to completely different beverages, deciding he would drink whichever she didn't want.

He was feeling pretty good, actually. He had slept fitfully the night before, but he hadn't woken up with an itch to punch something. And he figured that was progress, at least.

But then he pulled up outside the _extremely_ ritzy hotel, and his eyes settled on Brooke Davis standing outside, and his resolve disappeared completely.

 _What. The. Fuck._

He pulled the car up and barely bothered turning off the ignition before he jumped out of the drivers seat and began stomping his boots against the sidewalk. "What the hell, Brooke?" He snapped as he quickly approached her.

"Jay," she seemed suddenly taken aback my his appearance. As if this wasn't the exact fucking time they had previously settled on. "I-"

"Get in the car." He didn't allow her to finish her sentence.

He didn't care what she had to say.

He stared at her with disbelief, all the while hearing Hank Voight's threatening instructions echo in his head. _Brooke will lock the door behind me at the hotel, and you will pick her up_ at her door _in the morning._

This was so typical of celebrities, he thought, as she quietly followed him back to the car. Always thinking they were untouchable. Invincible, even.

Well, she could be cavalier if she wanted. It was her goddamn life.

But this was his fucking job.

Christ. He didn't even allow himself to look at her as he pulled away from the curb. "You weren't supposed to leave your room," he said, his voice dripping with anger. "What? Did you think that _bellboy_ was going to protect you?" She had left herself completely vulnerable, and she was going to leave _him_ completely vulnerable, too.

He was already skating on paper thin ice. If anything happened to her, Hank Voight wouldn't hesitate to fire him.

Or drop him at the bottom of the river.

"You may not care about your life," he said, continuing his tirade. "But I sure as _hell_ care about my job."

The light ahead of him turned yellow, and instead of speeding through it as he usually did, he slowed the car to a stop, allowing himself a moment to look over at Brooke.

Her face was as red as a tomato. He couldn't be sure if it was out of embarrassment or anger, but he _was_ sure that the redness did nothing to take away from it's beauty.

God. He _hated_ how beautiful she was.

But at least today she was wearing pants. They may have been black and tight and they may have fit her like second skin, but at least her dress wasn't rising up against her bare thigh.

After what seemed like an eternity, the light turned green, and he forced his eyes away from her legs and back onto the road.

By the time he'd finally finished yelling at her, they were pulling up to the precinct and she was seething with anger.

 _Who the fuck does he think he is?_

She _hated_ being yelled at. She had grown up in a house where yelling was the preferred means of communication, and ever since leaving home at 18, she had tried to avoid it.

It was one of the reasons she had moved back to Tree Hill in the first place. And then, it was the reason she chose to move to Chicago instead of returning to New York.

When her mother came to New York to 'help' her run the business, she realized she couldn't live in the same city as her mother. Because her mother was a bully.

And so, she was starting to realize, was Jay Halstead.

As soon as Jay put the car in park, Brooke jumped out. She slammed her dark green pumps against the gravel as she moved around the car towards him, and when she reached him, she slapped a small square paper against his chest.

She tried to ignore the hardness of his chest against her palm, or the electricity that shot through her as she felt his warmth run through her fingers.

Instead, she looked into his deep blue eyes, and said, " _This_ was slid under my door this morning." She had found it when she had gotten out of the bed, when he had gone towards the bathroom to brush her teeth. Her entire body had broken out in goosebumps when she saw it, and her breathing had become ragged and strained.

"I was _afraid_ of being alone." She didn't usually make it a habit of admitting fear, and even now, she made sure her tone sounded more angry than scared. "I called Hank and he stayed on the line as I walked from my room down the stairs," she continued, and it was only at that moment that she noticed her hand was still pressed against his muscular chest.

"Contrary to what you might think," she said, raising her eyebrows, and keeping her hand steadily in place. "I do care about my life. And I am _not_ an idiot."

And with that, she removed her hand, letting the small square note fall gracelessly to the floor, and she turned away.

000000000000

Unfortunately, Brooke's exit plan was slightly flawed, because she couldn't get through the metal gates protecting the Intelligence Unit without Jay's fingerprints buzzing her in. So she attempted to look casual as she waited there for him to appear, and when he finally did, she noticed that his face looked maybe a tiny bit softer than it had before.

Neither of them said anything though, and by the time they ascended the stairs, the team was already there.

Hank seemed to be briefing them on the note, and his phone conversation with Brooke that morning, but he stopped speaking as soon as he saw them. "Brooke," he said, and Jay noticed that his voice was softer than he had ever heard it. "Can I see the note?"

"Jay has it," she answered.

Jay moved quickly across the room. "Same handwriting," he said, as he handed it the note off to Hank. "Same red heart."

The only different was that this note said _I can't wait to see you,_ which, Jay couldn't deny, actually sounded a lot more foreboding than the first one. Add to that the fact that this son of a bitch had found Brooke's hotel _and_ room number, and he couldn't actually blame her for her actions this morning.

 _God,_ he thought. _I am such a dick._

Well, at least he was self aware.

Hank taped the note right beside the next one, and Brooke watched as the various members of the team approached the board to get a closer look.

"Brooke," Hank said her name again, and she allowed it to wash over her and calm her. His gravelly voice had first calmed her down at 18, and it was calming her down now. "Can you work out of here today?" He asked. He motioned towards the empty desk, and then to the break room, indicating she could work in whichever space she preferred.

She ran her schedule through in her mind, and she was relieved when she remembered that she had left the day essentially open in anticipation for Millicent's arrival. She had planned to work on her Fall line and sketch for a few hours in the morning, and then she was going to meet Millie and spend the day touring Chicago with her. She had been waiting to tour the city for days now, not wanting to see the sites alone.

"Yeah, I can," she said, moving towards the empty desk. She could use the break room for phone calls, but otherwise, she could sit out here. She didn't want to invade the teams personal space when she didn't have to. "My assistant's flight gets in at noon though," she said, as she placed her bag down on the desk. "Can she come here?"

Brooke noticed that this time when she mentioned her assistant, Jay didn't have the same cynical reaction. Instead, this time, he looked almost... worried.

She had finally calmed down a little and so she forced herself not to read too much into _that_ one, and shifted her gaze back to Hank.

"We'll send someone to pick her up and bring her here," Hank offered. "Do you need anything from your office?"

Brooke always carried an extra set of colored pencils and a sketch pad in her purse, and the rest of her life was essentially organized in different apps on her iPhone. So she answered, "No, but thank you," appreciating the offer and settling in at the empty desk. The one right across from Jay.

00000000

For most of the morning, Brooke had the bullpen to herself. The majority of the team had been sent out into the city to do further investigating regarding her case, and Jay had been sent downstairs to comb through hours and hours of surveillance video footage.

Now that they had a second location, they were combing through the videos from the apartment building _and_ the hotel to see if they found anyone in common.

Apparently the team used to have a tech whiz who did that kind of thing in minutes, but he had recently left on his own volition and his replacement wasn't nearly as fast. Jay had been assigned to _help._

Brooke wondered if Jay was given an assignment in the building to stay close to her, or because he wasn't supposed to go onto the streets of Chicago without a partner. And then she found herself wondering _why_ Jay didn't have a partner.

Either way, she wasn't the biggest fan of the arrangement.

Every time Jay came upstairs to get something from his desk, the room became... well, _charged._ That was the only way she could describe it. Outwardly, she tried to barely acknowledge his presence, only saying a quiet 'hey' or sending a small nod, and yet she couldn't help but _feel_ his presence in the room.

But at least for now, she was alone.

She had decided to focus on dresses this morning, and was currently working on adjusting the lines of a deep blue dress. She usually didn't use deep blue for Fall, preferring it for winter or even spring, but her fingers seemed to just pick up the blue pencil and before she could change her mind, she was sketching. As she drew the lines across the page, she noticed how similar the color was to Jay Halstead's eyes.

She erased the bottom that she had just drawn, realizing she didn't _love_ the length. She also wanted a thinner skirt. As she redrew the small line, denoting the new length, her phone buzzed.

She smiled when she saw who it was. "Hey, Millie!"

"Hi, Brooke," she replied. Brooke could tell her was trying to keep it together. Millicent Huxtible was the best assistant Brooke Davis had ever had, and in the past several years she had essentially become Brooke's right hand woman. But Millie _hated_ flying.

"How was your flight?" She asked, already knowing the answer. Already knowing Millie was going to lie.

"Good," she said. "Easy!"

"Great!" She said, allowing Millie to deep her dignity firmly intact.

"I am just about to grab an Uber." She began, "Can you text me the address?"

"Actually," Brooke replied. "There's a pair of detectives that are coming to pick you up." Ruzek and Atwater were going to meet her at baggage claim.

After she finished giving Millie the few directions Hank had given her, she added, "Oh and Millie?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you bring my mail with you?" She _hated_ that she was asking this question again. She didn't want Millie to think she didn't trust her, or that she had for some reason expected her to forget the thing she had reminded her to do three times already. But it was the one main request Hank had, and he seemed to think it was pretty important.

"Of course, Brooke," she said carefully into the phone.

"Good," she sighed, "I'll see you soon, Millie."

As soon as she hung up, she saw Jay ascending the stairs. She looked at her phone to check the time. It was _exactly_ 1:00. Thirty minutes after his last visit. _He really must be checking up on me,_ she thought.

She gave him a small smile, and then forced herself to focus back on her sketches. She wanted to avoid his gaze, and she _really_ wanted to get this hemline right.

00000000000

Unlike all of the other times he had been _pretending_ he needed to check something at his desk and running back downstairs to scour through surveillance footage, Jay stayed seated at his desk this time. The majority of the video footage was finished, and now he _actually_ had a few things to check on at his computer.

Across from him, Brooke continued to sketch.

She was _really_ struggling. She couldn't seem to focus. Because when she wasn't stealing glances at Jay, she could feel him stealing glances at her.

She _hated_ that he had been given this assignment.

She _hated_ that the two of them were in this room alone.

And with Hank's eagerness to punish Jay, she had a sinking feeling they were going to end up being alone a lot more.

She pick up the eraser again, but then in a moment of frustration, she sighed loudly and crumpled the piece of paper into a ball, pushing it away from her until it fell off the table and landed on the ground.

Jay looked up at her, and he seemed like he was about to say something, but he was interrupted by the sound of voices coming up the stairs.

"Millie!" Brooke jumped out of her chair and rushed towards her friend, throwing her arms around her and pulling into a close hug. She hadn't seen Millie since they were both last in New York, and that had been over a month ago. "Hi!" She squealed.

"Hi, Brooke!"

Brooke disentangled her arms from Millicent and took a step back, looking down at her friend. "You look fantastic!"

Millie gave her a cheeky smile and said, "Well, I should. I'm wearing all COB."

"God, I missed you," Brooke replied, because it was so damn true.

She moved further into the room, introducing Millie to Jay and showing her the _little_ progress she had made on the Fall line this morning.

"Millicent," They both turned at the sound of Ruzek calling Millie's name. "I'm just going to put this down over here," he said, motioning to her large bag. "Is that okay?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Mille said, immediately rushing over to his side of the room. "I completely forgot I left you with that." She scooped it up into her arms and looked at him, "Thank you so much."

Brooke noticed the way Ruzek blushed a little, but just gave her a small nod in reply.

She raised her eyebrows and smirked at Millie as she walked back over towards the desk Brooke was currently occupying, and then she couldn't help but laugh when Millie narrowed her eyes in reply.

"Oh, Brooke," Millie said, returning back to business mode when she reached the large desk. "I have your mail."

Brooke watched as Jay's eyes shifted from his computer screen to watch Millie hand her the stack of envelopes. She forced herself not to shift under his heated gaze. But also, she didn't really understand why everyone was making such a big deal about her mail. "Thanks, Millie."

"So," Brooke whispered, attempting to distract herself, but at the same time hoping not to disturb the unit with her non-work related talk. "How's Mouth?"

She rifled through the envelopes, as she listened to Millicent's story about her boyfriend Mouth's new job, and their new apartment in Omaha.

But then her eyes settled on an envelope she hadn't been expecting, and suddenly she couldn't hear a word Millie was saying.

Brooke inhaled a sharp intake of breath, and she was sure every ounce of color had drained from her face.

Millie had stopped talking abruptly, meaning she wasn't _exactly_ being discrete. And she assumed that at this point, Ruzek, Atwater, and Jay were probably staring.

She _knew_ she should look up, or move, or do _something._

But she couldn't. She couldn't move. Her eyes were glued to the envelope, and it seemed to burn hot in her hands.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to collect herself.

Except, that never worked.

Because when she closed her eyes, she _always, always_ saw his face. She felt the tightening of his fingers on her neck. The kick of his metal boot against her flat stomach.

So she opened her eyes, instead trying to gather strength a different way.

Except, nothing was working.

She was just going to have to do it.

 _Okay, Brooke._ She thought. _3, 2, 1... Open it._

She flipped the envelope over and began to open it with care.

Her heart raced and her breathing became labored as she slipped the small paper that had been folded in thirds out of the white, government-issued envelope. Another small paper, she thought. Another small, insignificant, _weightless_ paper, that was about to make her entire world feel unbearably heavy.

She held the paper in her hands, too afraid to unfold it. Too afraid to _actually_ reveal the contents of the letter. Too afraid it would confirm her suspicions.

She could vaguely hear Millie saying her name. She could vaguely hear Jay's boots echoing against the ground as he moved towards her.

But she couldn't focus on them.

She couldn't focus on anything except this paper.

She unfolded it carefully.

And then she forced herself to read the first few lines before losing her composure completely.

At the final words of the first paragraph, she dropped the paper to the ground. _This can't be happening,_ she thought, as she collapsed into the desk chair and buried her face in her hands.

 _This cannot be happening,_ she repeated.

But it was. It was happening.

And suddenly all the events of the previous week came back into focus and everything began to make sense.

 _Xavier was out of prison._

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review!**


	7. Chapter 7

Hi all! Thank you all so much for your reviews and your continued interest in this story :) So Greenseas (one of the reviewers!) requested a summary of the Xavier Daniels situation for those of you who don't watch One Tree Hill! So for those of you who have already seen one tree hill, you can skip to the chapter!

Brooke is attacked in her store, but she doesn't report it because she thinks it has something to do with her mother. But it was actually Xavier Daniels, but because she doesn't report it, he continued to commit crimes - killing a high school student and then kidnapping another high school student in two unrelated instances.

The high school student he kidnaps is Sam, Brooke's foster daughter. Here is a quick 3 minute video of Brooke rescuing Sam.

ww m/w atch?v=VPm6f wFJJ9M

(I put spaces in the link because a lot of times links don't work on this website - but if it still doesn't work the youtube video is called: Brooke's saving Sam and fighting with X.)

Also, Xavier never got convicted of killing the high school student (Quentin Fields), so he doesn't actually stay in jail that long.

 **Chapter 7**

Jay had been watching out of the corner of his eye. He had been surprised when he saw Brooke fling her arms around her assistant, as if she was an old friend. He had expected a quick, no nonsense greeting before Brooke began bossing Millicent Huxtible around. But, just like he had been with Cara, he was wrong.

He was starting to wonder if he was wrong about a lot of things when it came to Brooke Davis. If maybe he had judged her a little too quickly.

He had been looking down at his desk, attempting to avoid staring at the pair of women in the room, when he heard Brooke's sharp intake of breath. And when he looked up, she looked like she had just seen a ghost.

Millie was calling her name with increasing urgency, but Brooke wasn't responding.

He stood from his desk as he watched her stare at an envelope in her hands. From his vantage point, it just looked like a regular envelope. She was holding it so carefully, though, as if it was something precious. But then the look on her face told a completely different story.

The face that had been red as a tomato in his car this morning was now as white as a sheet.

"Brooke?" Millicent called her name again, but Brooke seemed to ignore it. Or maybe she hadn't even heard.

She flipped over the envelope and opened it, and time seemed like it was moving in slow motion. To Jay, it seemed like _hours_ before she finally unfolded the white paper and read the contents.

And then time sped up.

The paper slid gracelessly across the floor, falling down near Millie's feet. Then Brooke's leg seemed to buckle beneath her and she fell into the chair. She buried her face in her hands, but he could still hear the intensity of her breathing coming through her fingers.

"Brooke?" Her name came from his lips in a whisper. It was only when he rested his hand lightly on her shoulder that she seemed to even register another person's presence in the room.

She looked up at him, and as their eyes locked, he thought for a moment that maybe she felt it, too. The raw electricity that pulsed through him as they touched.

He was momentarily rendered speechless as he started into her hazel eyes. She looked so vulnerable and terrified, and he suddenly had an overwhelming desire to scoop her up and carry her somewhere safe, to protect her from the world.

"Brooke," The ragged and deep sigh that came from Millie as she spoke Brooke's name caused him to finally pull his eyes away.

He and Brooke both looked in Millicent's direction.

"Oh my god," Millie said, as her eyes continued to scan the letter she was holding in her hands. "Oh my god. Brooke. Oh my god." She choked out the words, and was seemingly unable to put any other words together.

"Millie," At some point Ruzek and Atwater had moved towards Brooke's desk, and they were all standing close together. "What is it?" Ruzek asked.

She didn't reply to him right away. Instead she lifted her eyes until she found Brooke's, and tears began to pool in her own. Millie tried to keep the tears in check, but swiped away the single tear that stubbornly escaped.

She seemed to be asking Brooke for permission to share, gesturing her head to the three concerned men that were standing in the room.

Brooke just nodded, unable to actually speak.

"It's Xavier Daniels," Millie said, as if that was explanation enough. And then she refolded the paper into the original trifold formation, and handed it over to Jay.

He opened the envelope, and with some trepidation, began reading the words aloud. "Dear Ms. Davis, We are writing from the Victim Notification System to inform you that your attacker Xavier Daniels will be released from prison in one week." He stopped after the first sentence to search for the date on the notice.

As if reading his mind, Atwater asked, "When was that written?"

"Two and a half weeks ago," Brooke's voice came out even raspier than usual, as if it physically hurt her to speak.

Jay took a deep breath, trying to _force_ himself not to ask the question he was dying to ask. He knew the team was going to need the answer to the question, but coming from his own lips, he feared it might seem too personal. Like it was _Jay_ asking, not Detective Halstead.

And considering his behavior over the last two days, he wasn't even sure she would answer him.

He needed someone else to ask.

But when no one did, he did the next thing he could think of. "We need to call Voight." And then he opened his phone and began to dial.

00000000000

"Okay," Voight's gruff voice had returned full force since he had escorted Brooke and Millie into the break room and closed the door behind them. "Xavier Daniels." As he posted a picture on the board, Jay felt momentarily relieved. He felt a _tiny_ bit better knowing they had something to post onto the board. At least it meant another lead.

But then, Voight backed away revealing the 8x11 sized picture and all the blood seemed to drain from Jay's body. The man in the picture looked _menacing._

Like serial rapist, brutal murderer, scum of the earth menacing.

He still didn't know what had happened, how Brooke had been victimized by this man, but he found himself praying it wasn't at bad as it seemed.

Adam stepped forward slightly, examining the picture. "What happened with Xavier and Brooke?"

Suddenly Jay had never been so grateful for Adam Ruzek and his questions.

"He brutally attacked her in her store." Jay flinched at the sound of Hank's words, but he didn't, _wouldn't_ , allow himself to actually imagine it.

"Was she targeted?" That question came from Olinsky. Jay knew he was going to need to start speaking, to contribute _something_ to the conversation, but his tongue suddenly felt as heavy as lead.

And even if he could finally speak, he knew that his first words wouldn't be a question. There were so many questions bouncing around his head, but he wouldn't be able to ask them.

No. His first words would be an apology. He would apologize to Brooke for judging her, for yelling at her, for thinking she was just another perfect celebrity with a perfect life.

"Kind of," Voight said. He was still trying to piece the story together himself. He had been _livid_ when he had found out. Mostly because he had _just_ found out moments ago. She could have called him. She _should_ have called him. "All of that seems like a long story," he said. "And it's not as important as what happened _after_ the attack."

Then, he turned and taped another piece of paper to the board. This one he had just printed from the Internet. It was a copy of an old tabloid magazine. One he couldn't _believe_ he hadn't seen before. He tried to remember what must have been going on in his life at the time of Brooke's attack that he hadn't been aware of this breaking news story. Even if it was in Tree Hill, it was in the fucking tabloids. He should have known.

"Fashion Designer Tracks Down Attacker and Exacts Revenge." Burgess read aloud as she, too, moved closer to the board.

"Evidently, Xavier kidnapped Brooke's foster daughter," Voight was seething as he spoke. If there were two things he had zero tolerance for it was attacking women and kidnapping kids. "Brooke rescued her."

"How?" Jay hadn't even meant to ask the question, and was embarrassed when it slipped out.

He was rewarded by a glare from Hank Voight.

"It doesn't matter _how._ " Voight said, his voice dripping with irritation. As far as he was concerned, that was not relevant. And he wasn't about to go and share irrelevant details about Brooke's personal life. She was entitled to as much privacy as he could possibly give her, especially now.

What was relevant, thought, was that this man, this Xavier Daniels, was probably out for blood.

"So, do we think this is all him?"

Once again, Jay found himself unbelievably grateful that Ruzek was on his team. Voight shifted his angry gaze away from Jay, and looked over to answer Ruzek's question.

 _Yes._ "I don't know," Voight admitted.

"He's got to have help though, right?" Atwater chimed in. "I mean, how else do you explain the time lapse in the video surveillance at the apartment _and_ the hotel?"

"Well," Voight said, considering the question. "We are just going to have to ask him."

000000000000

It was 7 pm, and they still hadn't tracked Xavier Daniels down.

Voight had put in a call to his parole officer back in Tree Hill, but he had nothing suspicious to report. Xavier was to check in daily by phone and in person once a week, and he had come in to the office four days ago for his scheduled meeting.

Voight also suspected that if there _was_ anything suspicious to report, the seemingly lazy ass cops in Tree Hill, North Carolina wouldn't bother to report it.

Kim was in the break room talking to Brooke and Millie when Voight walked in. Brooke was nervously tapping her leg, and she had barely touched the tea Kim had made for her.

He was happy to see that Kim was being completely professional with Brooke. He would _kill_ her if she started asking for an autograph.

"Brooke, Millicent," they turned as he said their names, and the three woman stood up.

"What's wrong Hank?" Brooke moved towards him, her face full of concern.

The four of them walked back into the bull pen to join the rest of the team before he gave her an answer.

"We haven't tracked down Xavier," he said, regrettably. "And I don't want you two staying in a hotel tonight."

"Okay?" Brooke drew out the word, not knowing what that meant. She certainly didn't feel comfortable sleeping in her apartment. Even if she was with Millie.

"Xavier was clearly following you," Hank continued. "I want you to stay with me until this all gets cleared up." At least this way, he know Brooke would be safe. Xavier Daniels could follow Brooke all he wanted now, because he clearly had _no idea_ who he was dealing with.

Brooke knew she should refuse the offer. She didn't know how long it was going to take for ' _this all to get cleared up.'_ And Hank Voight had _actual_ responsibilities, _real_ cases to tend to.

But the fear had crept it and taken hold, and so she couldn't bring herself to say no. Instead, she whispered a quiet, "Thank you," hoping she had been able to convey how much the offer meant to her.

"Good," he said, nodding and dismissing her thank you with a wave. "Then everyone is free to go home, and I'll see you all back here tomorrow at-"

He was cut off by the shrill sound of his cell phone ringing loudly in his pocket. He checked the number, and sighed loudly as he swiped across the screen to answer. "Commander," he tried to keep his voice calm. He did not have time for whatever _this_ was. "What can I do for you?"

He listened to the Commander for several more moments, and no one in the bullpen moved.

He hung up the phone, and slipped it back into his pocket. "Three bodies at the riverwalk," he sighed, and then he turned to Brooke, giving her an apologetic smile.

He turned back to his team, "Everyone," he sighed again, knowing they were going to be in for a long night. "Suit up."

Brooke watched as the team sprung into action, retrieving their jackets and moving towards the hallway that lead to the locker room.

She stood their silently next to Millie, unsure of exactly what to do. Would they wait here for him to return? This was likely the safest place for them if Hank was working on a case, but how long would they have to be there?

"Halstead," Hank called out his name, and Brooke watched as he froze, his jacket only halfway up his arm.

"Sarge?" He looked over questioningly, and then slid his jacket up the rest of the way. "What's up?"

"Since you're still without a partner," Voight said, plainly. "Can Brooke and Millie stay with you tonight?"

Halstead was surprised that his boss formed it into a question, instead of a demand. He was even more surprised when his heart began to race at the thought of Brooke spending the night under the same roof as him.

"Sure," he replied, trying his best to keep his voice casual and steady, even though he was feeling _anything_ but steady at the moment. Then he turned to the two women standing less than ten feet from him and said, "Give me five minutes to get my stuff, and then we'll go?"

 _Great_ , she wanted to say. _Just great._

But instead she just nodded, knowing if she spoke the sound of her voice might betray her.

 _I get to spend the night with the one who yells._

0000000000000

"This is where you'll be staying," Jay flipped on the lights to his second bedroom, directing Brooke and Millicent inside. "I hope this is okay," he said, gesturing to the lone queen bed in the center of the room.

"It's fine, Jay." Brooke answered, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.

She had been surprised at how civil and _nice_ Jay had been since they left the station. He hadn't just been making small talk with Millie, but instead, he had _really_ talked to her. And Brooke could tell by the follow up questions he had been asking that he was _really_ listening, too.

"We can easily share a queen size bed," she said, looking at him and trying to give him a genuine smile.

If he could play nice, she could, too.

"Okay," he said, nodding. "There are towels in the closet over there, and the bathroom is down the hall."

"Thanks, Jay," Millie said, moving further into the room. Brooke noticed that her voice sounded _a lot_ more genuine than hers. _Oh, well._

"Your welcome," he said. "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"We will," Brooke replied, even though she already knew she wouldn't take him up on the offer. It had been a long, stressful, and confusing day, and she just needed a moment _alone._ Away from his piercing blue gaze and his sudden shift in attitude.

When Jay _finally_ left the room, her eyes traveled the room. She had been shocked by how clean his apartment was the minute she had walked inside, and this room was no exception. She was struck at how _little_ it resembled the bachelor pads her friends had occupied in Tree Hill. Mouth and Skill's place _always_ looked like a tornado hit it, and before Peyton moved in Lucas, his house wasn't much better.

Noticing Jay had left the white door slightly ajar, she moved to close the door quietly behind him.

"Brooke," Millie said, and even before Brooke looked at her, she could tell Millie was smiling at her. "Jay Halstead is _hot._ Like _hot, hot._ " She didn't stop speaking, even as Brooke rolled her eyes. _"_ And I think he likes you."

Brooke knew she was just trying to lighten the mood, to take her mind off of Xavier Daniels and the nightmare that was slowly becoming her life, but this was _not_ a topic she wanted to talk about either. "He may be _hot, hot,_ but he's also an _ass, ass_ ," she whispered pointedly, hoping her voice was low enough that Jay wouldn't be able to hear through the door.

She figured Jay knew she thought he was an ass, but she didn't need him knowing she _also_ thought he was hot.

"He didn't seem like an ass," Millie said, seemingly confused.

And why wouldn't she be, Brooke thought. Jay had been a perfect gentleman. He had taken them to the Purple Pig for dinner, knowing they must be hungry. Evidently, it was his favorite restaurant. Mille had peppered him with questions about work, and he had been more than happy to oblige.

But he certainly didn't _like_ her. Maybe he was being so nice all of a sudden because he liked Millie.

She didn't know why, but suddenly her heart seemed to sink at the thought.

But then a worse thought crept in, and her heart sunk even lower. Maybe Jay had finally dropped the attitude because he finally knew the truth, and he pitied her.

There was nothing Brooke Davis hated more than being pitied. It was the reason she had waited so long to tell her friends about her attack in the first place, it was the reason she hadn't mentioned it upon her arrival to Chicago.

She tried to shake that thought away. "Trust me," she said, as she began to undress and change into a pair of Millie's pajamas, because she hadn't thought to pack a second pair last night. "He is."

"Okay," Millie said, her voice high and sarcastic. After changing into her own pajamas, she switched off the overhead light and slid into bed. "It was nice of him to have us here, though." She added, her tone now more serious.

Brooke slid into the queen-sized bed beside Millie and turned off the bedside lamp, signaling the end of the conversation.

But then she shook her head, unable to get Millie's words out of her head.

 _I think he likes you._

 _It was nice of him to have us here._

No, he didn't. No, it wasn't. "He's just doing his job."

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review!**


	8. Chapter 8

Hi all :) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

I have already mostly written the next chapter, and will likely not wait the full 24 hours before posting it. So keep your eyes peeled for it tomorrow. Hope you're all having a fantastic weekend :)

 **Chapter 8,**

Brooke remained still in the bed, careful not to wake the comfortably snoring Millie beside her. Her eyes were closed, but she was wide awake.

 _Have a nice night._

At the sound of his voice in her head, she opened her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. She looked at the clock, and saw that it was nearly 1 am.

Par for the course these days, she thought. Lately, she hadn't been able to sleep until she was so bone tired and delirious with exhaustion that her negative thoughts weren't able to fully form.

It was only then that she had even a modicum of peace.

She closed her eyes, trying once again.

 _You took my life, and you made it into a nightmare._

 _And all I have thought about is that I hate you. I hate you._

She opened her eyes. Well, she thought, if she couldn't stop the words from echoing and flooding through her system, at least tonight she was thinking about the night she kicked his ass.

Instead of the night he kicked hers.

 _Have a nice night._

She shook her head, trying to literally shake the memory out of her brain.

God, she needed a drink. Was it rude to go searching for alcohol in someone else's home at 1:00 in the morning?

She reasoned that yes _,_ it probably was _very_ rude. But for some reason, the thought of being rude to Jay Halstead actually made her want to do it more.

And so she shimmied slowly out from under the covers, careful not to wake Millie, and moved towards the door. She looked down and realized she was just wearing only a thin white tank top and her underwear. She had been sweating under the thick blue blanket, and she had shed the heavy layers of Millie's flannel pajamas about an hour ago.

She found the purple flannel pajama bottoms at the foot of the bed, and slipped them on. She couldn't bring herself to also put on the long sleeve flannel top, knowing it would just heat her already burning skin.

Last second, though, she opted to slip on her bra. _Just in case,_ she thought.

The apartment was quiet, and she tiptoed slowly down the hallway to the main room in search of the kitchen. When she reached it, she turned on the small light over the sink, not wanting use the harsh overhead light. The small bulb illuminated the kitchen in a low, soft glow, and once again, she marveled at just how clean Jay's apartment was.

She scoured the counter tops hoping for a bottle of wine. She could _really_ use a glass of red right now. But, of course, his counter tops were mostly bare. There was a microwave, a toaster oven, and a coffee maker, but otherwise the dark grey granite was completely clean.

She opened the freezer, checking next for a bottle of vodka. She realized that vodka probably wasn't the best thing to be searching for in a strangers kitchen in the middle of the night, but she reasoned that she had had a _really_ long day, and that just this once, it was allowed.

The stacked freezer revealed a half-filled ice tray and some frozen meats and vegetables, but no hard liquor.

 _Fine_ , she thought. _I'll have a beer._

She opened the refrigerator and let out a sigh of relief when she saw a six pack of beer on the second shelf, only one-third empty. _Thank God,_ she thought, as she reached for a Sam Adams.

She liked beer just fine, but she wasn't a beer lover, and she certainly wasn't one of those people who walked around with a bottle opener attached to her keys like some of her friends.

She tried to twist the top of the beer off, but the metal just scratched against the palm of her hand. _Fuck_ , she thought, as she pressed her palm against her mouth, trying to sooth the burn that was now present there.

In high school, when Brooke had drank beer often - and everything else, if she was being honest - she had been able to open the bottle top of a beer by placing it snugly against the corner of a kitchen counter or a table and smashing her hand down. She considered that now, but realized that would _most definitely_ wake Millie. And probably Jay, too.

 _Hm,_ she thought, trying to figure out what to do. She _could_ go rifling through his drawers looking for a bottle opener. He _had_ to have one somewhere. And well, she was already stealing his beer, why not also go through his stuff?

Even if she got caught tomorrow morning when he came in and found his six pack nearly empty, so what? He had _yelled_ at her this morning, had scolded her like she was a petulant child. They could just consider it even.

She opened the first drawer and found that it was full of silverware. At this point, though, she wasn't even surprised when she found the silverware neatly organized in a large wooden organizer. She smiled when she saw that the spoons were separated into the big spoon and little spoon. She thought only _she_ did that.

She quietly closed that drawer, and moved to the one next to it. The drawer was about half the size of the silverware drawer, and was the left most drawer in the kitchen. When she opened it, she saw a stack of papers and photos underneath a bottle opener.

 _Bingo,_ she thought as she grabbed the metal opener. She was about to close the drawer when she suddenly got a better look at the photograph on the top of the stack.

She gently picked up the photo, careful not to smudge it were fingers, and moved closer to the light.

In the picture, Jay was in full army gear. He was wearing green camos and big, sturdy boots, and he had a _huge_ rifle slung across his shoulder. His hair was a little longer than it was now, and he had a days worth of stubble on his face. He looked _young_ in the picture, and she turned the photo over in the her hand, looking for a time stamp or a date.

She just found a stark white back, so she flipped the photo back over and continued to examine it.

Jay had his arm slung carelessly around a man, also dressed in camo. The picture had clearly been taken overseas. Not only was that evident from the dessert in the background, but also from the way Jay's skin was deeply tanned.

But what struck Brooke most about the picture, the reason she couldn't take her eyes away, was Jay's smile. He was smiling _so_ wide. The way his blue eyes shined and the skin around them crinkled, as if he was looking into the sun, he looked so happy and _content_ in that moment. As if he was exactly where he wanted to be.

His grin was so mesmerizing it was enough to take her breath away for a moment.

In the two days since she had met him, she had seem his scowl, she had seen him smirk, she had seen him frown, and she had seen him full out angry.

And at dinner, _maybe_ she had seen a hint of a smile when he had been talking to Millie. But it had been nothing like _this._

Maybe that's why she thought he looked so young in this picture, she thought as she continued to stare. He wasn't yet wearing any pain on his face.

She couldn't tear her eyes away, momentarily forgetting about the beer. But then, the harsh overheard light blasted and her eyes involuntarily closed, only opening again in a strained squint.

"Brooke?"

 _Shit._ She had been caught. With the beer on the counter, the drawer wide open, and the photo in her hand.

"Hi," she said, quickly placing the picture back in it's rightful place and quietly closing the drawer. "I, uh, I couldn't sleep." She looked over and saw that he was wearing light grey pajama pants that hung low on his hips, and a deep green ARMY t-shirt that had a small hole in the seam.

It was the first time she had ever seen him in short sleeves, and she couldn't stop staring at the way the dark green fabric tightened around his biceps or the way his forearms seemed so solid and strong.

God, he looked even better looking than she remembered, which didn't even seem possible. Millie was right. He was _hot, hot._

"Me neither," he replied.

She didn't buy that though. His voice was thick with sleep. "I'm sorry that I woke you."

 _I wasn't sleeping,_ he wanted to say. _I was tossing and turning, thinking about you._ "It's fine."

She found herself glad she had woken him, happy to have the company. "Want a beer?" She asked, but then suddenly she felt foolish. She was offering him a drink in _his_ house. It was his damn beer.

But he didn't seem the least bit deterred by her offer. "Sure," he said, moving towards the fridge and pulling out a second cold Sam Adams for himself.

She passed him the bottle opener quietly, unsure of what to do next.

Suddenly, she felt a chill pass over her, and goosebumps erupted on her skin. She wished she had thought to bring the flannel nightshirt out with her. She would've undoubtedly slid it on right now.

Jay opened the bottle seamlessly, barely even looking down at it. He couldn't stop staring at her. He had thought he had heard a noise in the kitchen, the creaky sound of a drawer opening. But from his bed, he convinced himself it was just wishful thinking, and so he hadn't gotten up right away.

When he heard another small noise, he had finally allowed himself to get up. At the last second, he decided to throw a t-shirt on over his bare chest, in case someone really was awake. And when he walked into the kitchen, he was sure he was dreaming.

There she was standing, looking heartbreakingly beautiful, in a tiny little white tank top that revealed _way too_ much skin for the middle of the night.

 _Or not enough._ "Do you need this?" He forced himself to keep his eyes on her face, and away from her bare midriff. It wasn't that hard though, he realized, because he found himself easily getting lost in her eyes.

"Yeah," she said, taking he bottle opener from him. "Thanks." She opened the bottle, and took a long sip. She looked like she was getting up the courage to say something, but Jay couldn't be sure what it was. "Sorry about this," she said, gesturing to the now closed drawer. "I was looking for the bottle opener, and I just saw the stack of pictures, and I-"

He cut her off, thinking how adorable she was when she was rambling and nervous. "It's fine, Brooke. Really."

She found herself wanting to ask about the picture, but she stopped herself. She reminded herself that he was just being nice out of pity, and that he was still the same jerk that had yelled at her this morning.

"Listen, Brooke," he said. God, she was starting to love how he said her name. "I wanted to apologize."

 _That_ she hadn't been expecting.

Jay began playing with the paper on the beer, nervously twisting it around his fingers and trying to find the courage to continue. "I was an ass this morning," he said. Then, he thought better of it, and added, "Actually, not just this morning. I've been an ass since I met you."

She just looked at him, but she didn't say anything.

He knew she wasn't going to make this easy for him.

"I've been..." he paused, struggling and considering how much of himself to reveal. For some reason, looking into her soft hazel eyes, he found himself wanting to reveal a lot more than he ever had before, and so he decided to go with the truth. "The guy in that picture, Mouse," he said, motioning towards the closed drawer. "He's my best friend. And he redeployed a couple months ago."

She raised an eyebrow at him, as if she wasn't quite sure what that had to do with him being an ass. And that's when he realized _which_ picture she had found. It was from early in their first tour, when they were still optimistic and hopeful. Before the death toll had risen and had sharply ripped their optimism away.

"I guess it brought up some stuff I haven't really dealt with," he said, surprised by the emotion that crept into his voice. "And I guess I just looked at you and saw some beautiful fashion designer with a perfect, easy life, and resented the hell out of it."

 _He thinks I'm beautiful? Okay_ , Brooke thought chiding herself, _That probably shouldn't have been your first thought._

"It's okay," she said, because she was floored by his admission, and couldn't think of anything else to say. But then he looked at her, and he seemed to be almost pleading with her not to let him off the hook that easily. So she obliged. "I mean, it's not okay, but I understand. Really, consider yourself forgiven."

"Thanks," he said, finally. At that moment, he noticed that she was nearly finished her beer. He _really_ didn't want this conversation to be over.

And so even though he knew he shouldn't, he asked, "Are you worried about Xavier?" As soon as the name left his lips, she seemed to visibly flinch. And so he added, "Because you don't have to be. I'm here, and Voight, well... I don't know what happened between the two of you, but he seems to really care about you. He won't let anything happen to you."

 _And neither will I._

"I know." She sighed, knowing there was truth to his words. Hank Voight would _never_ let anything happen to her. He had protected her at 18, and he would protect her now.

"It's just..." _It's just that every time I close my eyes I see his face. It's just that when it's quiet, I hear the sound of his voice. It's just that I'm scared._ "It's just hard."

He moved towards her, and placed a comforting hand on her arm. The bare skin came to life at his touch, humming with electricity. "I think it's going to be hard for a while," he said. She wasn't sure if he was talking about her or himself.

She reasoned that he was probably talking about both.

"I think you're right," she said, her eyes never leaving his deep, blue ones. It's like he could see straight into her soul, but she still couldn't bring herself to look away.

She wasn't sure what made her say it, but she finally put a voice to her fear. "When I close my eyes, it's like I'm back there," she whispered, and she could feel the tears filling her eyes. _Don't cry,_ she ordered herself. _Not here._

But then she remembered that Millicent was in the second bedroom, and she wouldn't be able to cry alone there either.

She looked away for a moment to hide her tears and suddenly growing angry at that thought. It was just another fucking thing Xavier Daniels had taken from her.

"Yeah," he answered, his voice low and quiet. "For me too."

She looked at him then, stunned by his words. _For me too._

For some reason, she had the distinct impression that he hadn't revealed that to anyone else; that this was a secret that he was sharing her, that he was exposing his deepest thoughts to her in the safety of his kitchen.

What was it about the darkness of night that allowed people to be brave? To reveal their innermost thoughts and fears? It didn't matter that they were standing in the kitchen, the lights so blinding that it was brighter than any natural sunshine could ever hope to be.

It was 1 am, it was the middle of the night, and so she could be brave.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She whispered, holding her breath while she waited for his answer.

"You know," he said, surprising even himself. "I think maybe I do."

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9,**

Brooke shifted on the couch, pulling her knees up under her body and feeling suddenly nervous. She had switched on the lamp that presided on the side table next to the dark brown leather couch, and it was emitting a soft glow that casted shadows across the room. She could add a few candles and she would have considered this mood lighting in her own apartment.

Maybe she should turn on the overheard light, make this seem less _date_ like?

 _Stop overthinking_ , she chastised herself. _This isn't a date._

This wasn't anything, actually. This was her staying in the protective custody of a detective.

Except, it didn't feel like _that_ either.

Once again, she found herself wishing she had opted to slip on the flannel night shirt before she had left the second bedroom.

"Here you go," Jay made his way into the room, and she was grateful for the interruption it caused, the way it halted her racing thoughts.

She took the cold beer he offered, noticing the bottle top had already been removed. "Thanks," she said, immediately taking a long sip and allowing it to relax her nerves. She was also happy to have something to focus on that _wasn't_ the way Jay's arm muscles looked when he reached over and passed her the beer.

"No problem," he replied easily, before sitting down on the couch. He left a comfortable space between them, careful not to make it too small, or worse, too large. He didn't want it to appear like he was trying too hard.

Which, of course, he was.

In the kitchen, Jay had been feeling bold. He had admitted out loud, maybe for the first time ever, that he wasn't exactly past everything that had happened to him in his three years of military service.

Admitting that already felt like this huge thing, like he had revealed the innermost parts of his soul, and now he wasn't sure how much more he could handle.

He decided to start with something easier. "So, Brooke Davis."

God, she really loved the way he said her name, the way it rolled smooth of his tongue and the way he seemed to smirk slightly after he said it.

"What brings you to Chicago?"

"I...uh... wanted a fresh start," she said, trying to keep her voice light. It was true, of course, but it sounded stupid when she said it out loud. And even more than that, they both knew this hadn't been the fresh start she'd been expecting.

She'd officially lived in Chicago for a week, and she'd already spent two nights away from her apartment. Her store opening was in a week, and usually that kept her busy and excited, but she could barely focus on it with everything else going on. "I guess I didn't get it though," she said after several moments of silence. "My past just came along with me."

He knew this was his opening, this was when he could ask about Xavier. But all of a sudden, he felt like it wasn't the right time. Like maybe bringing up her past and trying to drag a story out of her wasn't what she needed.

So instead he said, "You will." He reached over and pressed a hand to her knee, in an _extremely_ intimate gesture he almost instantly regretted. Her eyes flew to his face, as it he had seared her skin through her flannel pants. He pulled back, "Sorry."

 _Don't be sorry you touched me,_ she thought. _Be sorry you took your hand away._

She shook her head in a dismissive gesture, and chose instead to fill the silence with a question of her own. "You think he's here, right? Here in Chicago?" Hank had directed her and Millie to the break room when he discussed this part of the case with the team. She wasn't sure what details Hank had revealed, and she also didn't know the working theories of the case.

"We don't know," he answered honestly. "But, maybe." He shifted his gaze back to her hazel eyes, feeling more comfortable now that they were back to discussing the case. He felt like he was back on solid ground. "Voight seemed to think he'd be out for revenge." He let that hang in the air, waiting for Brooke to comment.

 _I think so, too,_ she thought. "What do you think?" Brooke whispered, her eyes still steady on his own. Her voice was so soft he wanted to wrap himself up in it.

"I don't really know what to think," he admitted. "I don't..." _know that much about what happened,_ he wanted to say. But he stopped himself, not wanting to fish around for personal details.

The last thing he wanted was Brooke to reveal something about herself because she thought she was doing so in a professional capacity. He wanted to _know_ her, he was surprised at how much, but he wanted to know her only when she wanted him too.

"Voight just told us that you rescued your foster daughter, and that he ended up in jail because of you." He paused, and then added the last statement, the most important one of all. "That's all we really need to know for the purposes of your case." _There_ , he thought. _Now the ball is firmly in her court._

She picked it up. "That's all you know, then?"

"Yeah," he replied. "And that's all I need to know to help solve this case. And that's all I want to know," he held her gaze, and slowly added, "Until you're ready to tell me more." He had added the last part because he wanted her to know he wasn't about to go Googling 'Brooke Davis' and 'Xavier Daniels' and combing through tabloid articles until he was saturated full of her personal information, but he realized he had used to work _until._ He _really_ hoped she didn't notice.

 _Wow,_ Brooke thought, completely floored by his comment. How had he known that that was exactly the right thing to say?

Jay had seemed to do a complete 180. The angry, irritable, short-tempered jerk seemed to be gone, and now in his place was a seemingly caring, understanding, and completely charming man.

And she found herself _really_ liking this version of him.

But what about the other version of him? Would that come back?

So instead of answering the way she really _wanted_ to answer, she just said, "Thank you," waiting to see if he would push the subject, or if he really meant it when he said he would wait.

"Well," he said, shifting the subject to a more casual one. "I've lived here all my life. I only left for the three years I spent in the Rangers, and then I came right back." He took a sip of his forgotten beer, and realized it had gotten a little warm in his hands. He enjoyed the taste as it slid past his tongue and down his throat, but he noticed that he wasn't _savoring_ it like he had the other night. He didn't _need_ it like he had the other night.

What he needed, he realized, was Brooke Davis.

"I think you're going to like it here," he finished.

 _So he had meant what he said,_ she thought. She decided to push it, to see how far he would be willing to go. She wanted to know if he was the type of person who asked questions, who pried into every detail, but never revealed anything about himself. She had known _a lot_ of guys like that.

"The Rangers, huh?" She asked, keeping her voice cheeky and light. "That's impressive." She didn't actually know if it was, of course, but just looking at him, she had a feeling his unit must have been a good one. With those strong arms, those capable hands, he looked like he could snap her like a twig.

He could probably do a lot of other things with his hands, too.

 _Jesus, Brooke. Get a grip,_ she thought, shaking her head and trying to clear it of the _very_ inappropriate image that was suddenly now at the forefront of her mind.

"Yeah," he said, at the same time letting out a sad sigh.

She focused back on his words, listening intently as he continued.

"It was..." _Hard. Grueling. Heartbreaking. So much worse than I ever could have imagine._ He stopped, once again, when he realized what he been about to say. How much he had been about to reveal.

What was it about this girl that made him want to put his nearly warm beer down and wrap his arms around her and tell her _everything_.

She watched as conflicted emotions ran across his face, and she noticed the turmoil in his eyes. "Hey," she said, her voice soft. She reached her hand and placed it gently on his knee, but this time she didn't take it off. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me."

 _I want to though. And that's what scares me._ "I lost a lot of friends. A lot of really good people. People with families; wives, and children, and parents, and siblings." He paused, knowing he was about to reveal the crux of it. "I saw some of them die, right in front of me. Right _next_ to me. And I just remember thinking... why? Why them? Why not me?" He didn't have a wife, or a child. His mother had been dying from cancer, and his father had been a jerk. His brother had been partying in New York, and they may have gotten closer in recent years, but at that time, he probably wouldn't even have noticed.

"And then I came home and I went to the funerals, and I faced their families, and..." He stopped. It was all too much, reliving these moments out loud. He reached for his beer, not even because he wanted it, but because he needed an excuse to take a break from speaking. He let the now warm liquid run down his throat, and he closed his eyes against the glass bottle.

"Some days it feels like a lifetime ago," he said, placing the empty bottle back down on the wooden coffee table. "But some days it feels like yesterday." He looked away from the bottle, and found her warm, hazel eyes once again. He noticed that she had tears in her eyes, as if her own heart was breaking for his loss. "And the problem is," he stopped. Okay, _here_ was the _real_ crux of it; the heart of the matter. "When I wake up in the morning, I don't know which day it's going to be. And lately..." he shook his head, and took a deep breath. "It's felt like yesterday _a lot._ " His voice was hoarse with emotion, and he closed his eyes to try to hold onto his last bit of composure.

Brooke watched him as he spoke, watched the muscles tense at first, and then the way his eyes seemed to glaze over before he closed them completely. She listened to his words, and it was as if he was reading what was written in her soul. The writing she had hidden away, too afraid to say aloud.

She'd been having a lot of _it feels like yesterdays,_ too. "When I close my eyes, I feel Xavier's fingers around my neck."

He opened his deep blue eyes and looked at her, and for the first time she realized the pain in his eyes wasn't from pity. It was empathy. It was from _understanding._

And just like that, the floodgates opened. She was going to find the rest of the words, and give them to him.

"He attacked me in my store," she began in a low whisper. Her voice was even raspier than usual. "I was alone, closing the store for the night when he came in." She was suddenly grateful she hadn't turned on the overhead light, knowing her face would be broken in pieces by the end of her story. "He stole some money from the registers and the sketches from my new line, but I wouldn't have cared about those things." Her voice was raw with emotion, and she could feel the tears beckoning. She had always been a crier, always wore her emotions on her face, and suddenly she _hated_ that about herself.

"He could have just taken them, taken it all and left. But he didn't." Her eyes flashed to the memory of the attack, to the bruises that marred her skin for weeks afterwards. "He just seemed so angry. I don't know, it was like he was taking every ounce of anger he had ever felt in his life and was pouring them into hurting me."

"Brooke," Jay wasn't sure she even realized her hand was still on his knee, but he placed his own hand warmly over it. "I'm so sorry."

She didn't acknowledge his words, needing to continue. Needing to just get these words out. For some reason, she wanted him to know everything. And she didn't want to stop until he did. "I didn't tell my friends. I didn't report it," she continued, shaking her head at the stupidity of her own actions. "I thought it was someone my mother hired, and I just, I don't know, I didn't want to report it."

 _Her mother? What the fuck?_ The questions were at the tip of his tongue, but he forced himself to hold them in, to give her a chance to keep going.

"So Xavier just stayed out there," she said, taking a deep breath and allowing the warmth of Jay's palm to give her the strength to continue.

"He murdered a local high school student. Quentin Fields. He...uh... he was a friend." This had been the worst part of it all. It had been the part she had never gotten over. _Her_ part in all of this.

When you go to therapy, when you visit support groups, they try to tell you that it's not your fault. They try to tell you that the victim is never to blame.

But that was a load of shit.

And on the worst nights, on the lowest of the lows, she wasn't thinking of her own attack. She wasn't thinking of the day she rescued Sam. No, she wasn't thinking about either of those things.

She was thinking of Quentin Fields.

The rising basketball star, the brother, the son, the _friend._ She thought of how much _life_ he had ahead of him. And she would think of how much he meant to her godson Jamie. How heartbroken Jamie had been at his funeral. How even Brooke had broken down, when it suddenly had all become too much. "It was my fault," she whispered, so quietly she wasn't even sure he would be able to hear.

"It wasn't your fault, Brooke. It's _not_ your fault." He gently squeezed her hands as he spoke the words.

She couldn't look at him then, couldn't let him see how much his words affected her. How much she _wanted_ to believe them.

"And then he kidnapped Sam," she said, finally.

 _Have a nice night._

"Sam was your foster daughter?" Jay probed, not wanting her to stop, wanting her to know he was listening.

"Yeah," she answered, quietly. "I found her tied up and taped in his house," she said, cringing at the vividness of the memory. "But by then I was a different person."

 _I'm not the same girl from the store that night. She's gone._

 _You took my life, and you made it into a nightmare._

"By then, I carried a gun in my purse," she remembered the way the cold metal felt in her hands, she remembered placing her finger on the trigger, ready to blast the bullet through his head.

Some days, she wish she had.

 _And all I have thought about is that I hate you. I hate you._

"So I was able to defend myself and Sam, and he went to jail." She remembered that night. She remembered how horrible it was, but she also remembered the finality of it. It had finally been _over._ "And I was finally able to close my eyes and _not_ hear his voice."

 _Have a nice night._

"But now," she said, as a single stubborn tear finally made it's way slowly down her cheek. "Now, I can't close my eyes."

Jay knew he had been wrong about her before, but he had never imagined _how_ wrong he had been. He had gotten a glimpse, but he wanted more. He wanted to know more about this unbelievably graceful yet remarkably _strong_ woman that put herself in danger to rescue her foster daughter.

He reached forward and wiped away the tear, and the gentleness of the gesture caused her to start crying even more.

"Hey, hey," he said, keeping his voice soothing. "It's okay."

"I'm just _so_ tired," she revealed, now crying fully. She was emotionally, physically, and mentally drained. She was _exhausted._

"Hey, listen, I have an idea," he said, moving the pads of his finger from her cheek to her chin. "I'll sit here on the couch," he said, moving his body towards the edge and gesturing towards the rest of the empty brown leather couch. "And you can just sleep," he pulled one of his tan throw pillows into his lap, and motioned for her to rest her head. "I'll be right here the whole time, and nothing is going to happen to you."

She regarded him warily, wondering why on earth he was being so nice. Why on earth he would sit on his couch all night, keeping watch for her, just so she could sleep.

She almost asked him, but then she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

The offer was too tempting.

"Okay," she finally whispered, moving her legs out from where they were underneath her. "Thank you."

She moved until she was completely stretched out on the long couch. She snuggled her head into his lap, facing away from him, but still reveling in the feel of him beneath her.

He felt so strong. She felt so safe.

And then she felt a blanket being stretched out and placed gently on top of her, and she felt so cared for. More cared for than she had been in a long time.

"Goodnight, Brooke," she heard him whisper, as he turned off the side lamp.

She whispered back, as darkness flooded the room, "Goodnight."

And then she finally closed her eyes, and went to sleep.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review**


	10. Chapter 10

Hi all :) I posted chapter 9 last night before the 24 hours was up, so it didn't show an update on the homepage. So don't read this one until you read chapter 9!

Happy reading :) And Happy Passover to those who celebrate!

 **Chapter 10,**

"Brooke."

At the sound of her whispered name, Brooke slowly opened her eyes, adjusting to the natural light that was now streaming through the windows.

It was only when her eyes had fully adjusted to the brightness of the room did she remember where she was and _who_ she was with.

 _Shit._

"Brooke," Millie whispered her name once again.

 _Shit, shit, shit._ She was _so_ not in the mood for the conversation that was inevitably going to follow this.

Sure enough, when she searched the room and found Millie's face, her eyebrows were raised and she had a _very_ teasing smirk on her face.

"I woke up and you were gone," she whispered, keeping her voice low enough so as not to wake Jay. She was standing in the doorway of the second bedroom, still in her pajamas, still wearing her bright plastic glasses in place of her contacts. "Now I know why," she added, wriggling her eyebrows and crinkling her nose in an excited gesture.

Jay, who had committed to staying awake and keeping watch for her, was snoring lightly beneath her on the couch. He may have been sleeping, but his strong arms were wrapped protectively around her, as if even in his sleep, he could still shield her from any harm.

His arms were just loose enough that she was able to shift slightly beneath them, and when she turned to momentarily study his face, she noticed that even in this uncomfortable seated position, he looked completely relaxed.

She suddenly found herself happy he was asleep. Not only because he didn't have to see the superior attitude that was currently being expressed also over Millicent's face, but also because she _really_ liked seeing him relaxed like this.

Gone was yesterday's tense jaw, the gritted teeth, the stiff shoulders. Gone was last night's heartbroken eyes. This morning, he looked completely at peace.

And, she reasoned that he needed his rest, too.

"Shut up," she whispered, turning back to Millie. She slid out from under his arms and off the couch, careful not to wake him, and moved towards her friend.

"Remind me again. You know, just so we're on the same page," Millie said, as they tiptoed towards the kitchen. "We _don't_ like Jay Halstead?"

Brooke flipped the light switch on in the kitchen and busied herself looking for coffee, avoiding Millie's questioning gaze.

"We...uh..." She wasn't _exactly_ sure how to finish that sentence. She most certainly _was_ starting to like Jay Halstead. But if shared that will Millie, Millie might want details. She might want to know _how much_ Brooke liked Jay Halstead. And at this point, she wasn't quite sure how to answer that question.

 _God_ , she sighed, frustrated. There was a coffee maker on the counter, there _had_ to be coffee somewhere.

"Hey," Brooke closed the cabinet suddenly at the sound of Jay's voice echoing through the room. It gave off a loud bang and her cheeks flushed immediately. She found herself suddenly nervous to face him. Well, nervous excited.

Jay gave Millie a small smile and nodded a good morning greeting to her, and then he moved past her further into the kitchen. He moved right next to Brooke, reaching past her to grab the coffee. His arm gently grazed her shoulder, and he smiled when he noticed the goosebumps that erupted immediately at his touch. She was still wearing the thin white tank top, and it left _very little_ to the imagination. He stood next to her, close enough to feel the heat emanating from her body.

"I'm going to get dressed," Mille said, before backing up and leaving the room. Some things were best left unseen between friends, and the sexual tension rising between Brooke and Jay was _definitely_ one of those things.

Neither of them even noticed Millicent's hasty exit from the room.

"Thank you," she said, finally turning to face him and gesturing towards the container of coffee.

"Well," he said, "I'm sure you would've found it eventually." He began scooping the ground coffee into the coffee maker, measuring out enough for the three of them to each have two cups. "You know, with all your snooping last night, I'm surprised you didn't already know where it was." He smirked at her, making sure to let her know he was only kidding.

She just rolled her eyes in response, "You _wish_ I cared enough to snoop around your apartment last night," her voice full of sass.

And instead of the witty retort she had been expecting from Jay, she was rewarded with a _real_ smile; a smile that lit up his whole face, causing his blue eyes to appear even deeper.

The photograph she had found in the drawer had not done his smile justice. Seeing it in person, it almost made her lose her breath. She was sure her heart rate had doubled, only after skipping a beat.

She was at a loss for words, and he seemed to take her silence as a cause for concern. "Speaking of last night," he began, treading carefully. "How are you today?"

She considered her answer before giving it, wanting him to know she wasn't brushing off his question. "I'm okay," she replied, keeping her voice calm and clear.

It wasn't the truth exactly. But it felt like a lot less of a lie than it had been yesterday.

"Well," she added, after another moment's thought. "I will be." _That_ felt like the truth. And that felt really good.

"Yeah," he replied, in a way that let her know he understood completely. "You will."

0000000000000

"The Commander's nephew is involved." Jay was still in his pajamas, pacing in the living room while he listened to his boss. Voight and the rest of the team were still tied up with the latest case, and Voight had called to bring him up to speed. "We are trying to finish it quickly, but-"

"I understand," he interjected, not needing Voight to explain the importance of the Commander's personal involvement. This one would need to be handled delicately, and it would need to be done right.

"Okay. But I want you checking in with me every couple hours," Jay took another sip of his coffee, as he paced through the living room and listened to the instructions being delegated to him from his boss.

"I will, Sarge," he replied, knowing it was completely unnecessary but that he would do it nonetheless.

"And don't do any investigating on your own, do you hear me?" Jay rolled his eyes at the _second_ unnecessary instruction. He would have to leave Brooke's side in order to do any investigating on his own, and he was _not_ about to leave her alone. Not today. Maybe not ever.

"Yes, sir," he gave the quick reply.

He expected Voight to hang up the phone then, but he didn't. "And Halstead," he continued.

"Yes, Sarge?"

"Take care of her, okay?" His tone was stern, but wistful, and for the _hundredth_ time that day, Jay wondered the significance of the relationship between him and Brooke.

"I will," he said, meaning it more than his boss even realized.

And with that confirmation, Voight hung up the phone.

Jay took his now half filled mug back into the kitchen, where Millie and Brooke were currently sitting and enjoying their coffee and breakfast.

Brooke looked up at the sound of his entrance to the room. "Was that Hank?"

He moved towards the stove and scooped another spoonful of scrambled eggs onto his plate, and then walked across the room to the toaster to take the last croissant. "You know _no one_ calls him Hank right?"

She just smiled, and he watched as her eyes lit up and her dimples sunk deep into the crevices of her cheeks. "Well, when I met him, no one called him 'sir' either."

It was the first time she really referenced her history with Hank, and she _knew_ he wanted to ask her about it. She also knew he _wouldn't_ with Millie in the room, and that the comment was completely safe.

She _loved_ holding it over him. She loved thinking that there might be a day in their future that they would find another intimate moment and she would tell him all about it while his handed rested warmly on her knee.

"Fair enough," he said, smiling at her, letting it go for now.

When he woke up this morning and had seen her standing in his kitchen once again, his mindset had changed. He didn't know why _,_ but he could _feel_ the slight shift in his perspective.

He still wanted to know everything about her, every detail, every story, every piece that came together to form the tapestry of her life. But he had lost the sense of urgency.

When he fell asleep last night with her head resting comfortably in his lap, he had the distinct feeling that this wasn't the last time he would fall asleep with her by his side with her soft snores lulling him to sleep. They would have other opportunities to delve into her history, and into his.

So for now, he had only one priority. And that was to keep her safe.

"That was _Voight_ ," he said, emphasizing his Sergeant's last name as he took a seat at the stool next to Brooke. "He wanted to let me know that the team is still working on last night's case."

"Oh," she said, and he could tell she was trying to hide her disappointment. He knew she didn't want to be demanding, but that she also wanted this to be over.

And _not_ because she was an entitled brat celebrity, but more likely, because she was scared. How hadn't he seen that before?

"So, since they'll be tied up with that today," he continued, trying to comfort her with his tone as much as his words. "You can work out of your own office and prepare for your store opening, and I will be there to make sure no one bothers you."

What had seemed like the most menial, most irritating assignment merely days ago had shifted into so much more.

He found himself _happy_ the team was busy, and he found himself looking forward to spending the day watching Brooke Davis in her element again.

"Thanks, Jay," she said, her voice soft and her eyes even softer.

He realized it was the first time she had ever said his name, and it seemed to knock the wind out of him a little bit. He took another sip of his coffee, trying to cover the emotions racing through his chest.

When he was able to speak again, he found her gaze and said a quiet, "You're welcome."

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Two hours later, all hell was breaking loose.

"What do you _mean_ the shipment has been delayed?" Brooke yelled angrily into the phone.

Jay noticed that she was using the same tone she had with him the day he picked her up at the hotel and she had _annihilated_ him outside his own car at the district.

"Well, that is _completely_ unacceptable."

He suddenly felt _really_ bad for the person on the other line.

"I would like to speak to your supervisor. Now." She was pacing the length of her office, pounding her heels so violently into the wooden floor, he was nervous she was going to hurt herself.

Her hair was currently in a loose pony tail and every time she turned away from him, he was awarded a view of the back of her neck. For some reason, he found it absurdly sexy.

Sexy and _distracting._

"Yes, Hi," she said, changing her voice only slightly. She must have been talking to the supervisor now. "This is Brooke Davis." She paused, undoubtedly listening to someone on the other end of the line. "Yes, I have a shipment that is supposed to be delivered from the Clothes over Bros New York corporate office to the Chicago office in two days."

He noticed that she kept her voice commanding but even, and without the other person seeing the angry look on her face, they may even think she sounded almost pleasant.

"And I have just been informed the delivery is going to be delayed. And I just wanted to inform _you_ that if the shipment doesn't reach my Chicago office in 2 days, Clothes over Bros will no longer be needing your services."

 _Wow_ , he thought, impressed. That voice was even deadlier.

"Wonderful," she said, now smiling for real. "I'll keep an eye out for it. Yes, okay. Bye, now."

"Brooke," Millie called for her the minute she hung up the phone, and Jay noticed that her tone was _not_ even. He could tell this wasn't going to be good. "I don't think the shipments are going to make it in time."

Brooke looked over and saw that Millie was hanging up from a phone call of her own. "What?" Brooke asked, confused. "I _just_ hung up with FedEx." They had a long standing deal with FedEx that they would use their company for shipments instead of UPS, and threatening the loss of her business generally did the trick.

"I don't think FedEx is the problem." Millie said, her voice now careful and controlled. Jay noticed that Millie seemed to be preparing to deliver bad news, but he could also tell that it was bad news she didn't seem all that _surprised_ to be delivering. "The New York office received an order not to release the clothes."

 _Shit,_ Brooke thought.

That could only mean one thing. "Fucking Victoria."

 _Who's Victoria?_ Jay wanted to ask. But he hadn't been invited here to ask questions, and he certainly wasn't about to interfere with her work. So he just stood their silently, watching the situation unfold.

He had been right though, because as he continued to watch Brooke, he noticed she _also_ didn't look surprised. Pissed off and angry, sure, but surprised by this news, she was clearly not.

"Yeah," Millie answered. That had been her first thought, too. Fucking Victoria.

"She tried to sabotage my Tree Hill opening and now she's trying to sabotage this one too," Brooke said.

Jay watched as Brooke stand abruptly from her desk and began pacing angrily. He once again wondered who this Victoria person was, and how she had the power to halt orders and sabotage a store opening of _Brooke's_ company.

"Well," Brooke stopped abruptly and turned to face Millie. "I'm not going to let her."

 _That's my girl,_ Jay thought.

 _Woah, where the hell did that from?_

Brooke wasn't _hi_ sgirl, he thought. Not even close.

But then he stared at her, as she continued to talk to Millie and as she pieced together a plan for the opening less than one week away, and he realized that last time he was in here, he hadn't allowed himself to _really_ look at her. To _really_ notice how amazing and _sexy_ Brooke Davis really was.

And it wasn't just her long legs, the ones that seemed to go on forever. It wasn't her slim waist, or her _perfect_ breasts, or even her strong, thin arms. It wasn't her long hair, or her sexy neck, or her beautiful brown eyes.

Although, all of those things didn't hurt.

But, no. It was her confidence.

He was learning that there was a difference between arrogance and confidence. There was a _big_ difference.

Being arrogant and entitled and cocky, that was a turn off. It was what he assumed all celebrities were like.

But being strong, and confident, and self-assured. Well, that, it turned out, was a turn on.

And Brooke Davis did strong, confident, and self-assured _well._

And as he stared at her, formulating a plan to successfully open her store despite the obstacles that laid at her feet, he realized he really _wanted_ Brooke Davis to be hisgirl.

 _Maybe one day_ , he thought.

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Brooke had come up with a plan. She had put in calls to four other stores in the _non-_ New York areas, and had asked them to ship one-quarter of their supply to the store in Chicago. Then, she planned to have those stores call the New York office to ask for more stock.

She had orchestrated it so that the calls for more merchandise would come into the New York office staggered enough that Victoria wouldn't take notice.

It had to work.

She _really_ wanted her opening to go well.

She knew that one day, this mess with Xavier Daniels was going to be behind her, and when that day came, she wanted to run Clothes over Bros from Chicago.

She wanted her fresh start.

And this was the first step.

At that thought, she shifted her gaze to Jay, who was standing in the doorway. He had been standing quietly in the doorway of her office for the past several hours, placing himself firmly between her and the outside world.

He had called Hank three times just to check in, but otherwise, he just stood there looking solid, strong, and focused.

She reasoned he must be bored out of his mind.

"Hey," she said, moving over to him. "Should we order in some lunch?" She really wanted to go to a restaurant, but something told her that wasn't an option. "I was thinking Chinese?"

"Chinese sounds perfect," he replied, a smile forming on his lips.

Ever since this morning, he had been a lot quicker to smile at her. He had smiled over at her several times in the last hour alone. But even though it no longer felt _completely_ new, it still felt so damn special.

It made her feel like the most important person in the world to be able to bring out his grin.

She wanted to press a kiss against that smile so badly, she had to physically restrain herself from getting too close.

Instead, she just smiled back, forcing herself to keep her distance, and then picked up her phone to dial the restaurant.

But just for a moment, as she watched him standing guard in the doorway, his gun holstered on his hip, the smile still wide on his lips, she allowed herself to really imagine what it would be like to kiss him. To press her lips against his, to melt into his embrace, to feel his body hard against her own.

And then just for a moment, she found herself thankful for the circumstances that brought them here.

Because the store might be the first step in her fresh start.

But she was starting to think Jay Halstead might just be the second.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review**


	11. Chapter 11

Hi all :) Thank you SO MUCH for all the reviews on the past two chapters! I am so so excited that you all love this story, and I can't even tell you how much your comments made me smile! I hope you enjoy this next chapter, too!

 **Chapter 11,**

The new shipments had been ordered and the Chinese food had been eaten. After lunch, Brooke had confirmed with the food and beverage vendors herself, even though Cara assured he she was also going to do it. Millie had spent the morning and early afternoon working on coordinating the press for the event, and all the final details seemed to be falling into place.

In two days, the clothes would be here and the real setup would begin, but for now, Brooke was allowing herself to take a break from the stress of the opening.

She sat down at the big white desk in the center of the large room, and pulled out her favorite sketch pad and a fresh package of colored pencils. Sketching designs had always been her favorite escape from stress.

When her love life was in shambles, when her temporary foster daughter was sent back to her parents after her open heart surgery, when her supposedly _permanent_ foster daughter chose to go back to the mother that abandoned her, and when her love life was in _further_ shambles, designing clothes had been her escape.

Some her most famous pieces, some of her absolute best work had sprouted from the heartbreak of those days.

And so, with the first Chicago store opening, Victoria trying to _ruin_ everything, _and_ Xavier Daniels being released from prison and hiding out god knows where?

She figured these pieces were likely going to be pretty damn good.

Except as she began sketching her first design, she realized she was struggling to focus. It was like she could _feel_ Jay's eyes on her back, staring at her.

 _He has to stare_ , she thought. _That's his job._

She tried to push the thoughts of him out of her head, and forced herself to focus for the next few hours. The winter was slowly coming to an end, with the first few flowers finally sprouting and growing against the mild air. By the time the flowers were in full bloom, her Fall line needed to be complete.

Brooke finally lost herself in her work, drawing and crafting dresses that she would later pair with jackets. She had already decided that this fall, the Clothes over Bros jacket game would need to be _strong._ The deep magenta dress she was currently working on would look perfect paired with a dark brown leather jacket and matching brown booties. _Or maybe a suede jacket,_ she thought, as she continued to sketch the fitted bodice of the dress. She hadn't chosen a fabric for the dress, but she was already loving the boldness of the color.

She was so engrossed in her sketching, she didn't hear the footsteps behind her, and she jumped at the sound of her name. "Wow, Brooke," Jay said, and she noticed that he was standing only about a foot behind her. "These are great." He was looking over her shoulder at the four completed pieces sprawled across the desk. "You're _really_ talented."

He wanted to _kick_ himself for that last statement. _Of course_ she was talented. She was fucking Brooke Davis. She had an entire clothing line that _she_ built from the ground up, based solely on her unique talent and her amazing designs.

"Don't sound so surprised," she said immediately, a smirk resting on her beautiful lips. He was relieved at her tone, he could tell she wasn't _actually_ insulted.

He decided to tease her back, hoping he could elicit a laugh. He had heard her laugh once over lunch, and it was throaty and deep and _amazing,_ and he _really_ wanted to hear that sound again. "I don't know, I just assumed your job was to pose for magazine covers and look pretty," he gestured towards the framed B. Davis magazine covers that were propped against the wall, not yet hung up. She was on the cover of almost half of them.

He wasn't rewarded with a laugh, but he _did_ get a _very_ sultry smile. "So you think I'm pretty?"

When looks of shock and embarrassment immediately graced his face, Brooke realized that Jay didn't _actually_ know her that well yet. They had started off on the completely the wrong foot, and then they had shifted right into very serious conversation territory, and they had skipped everything in between.

He didn't know that she was _quite_ the flirt when she wanted to be.

She decided to stand and touch his arm playfully, "You don't have to answer that," she said. Then with her hand still on his forearm, she leaned close to him, and whispered slowly in his ear. "You can just tell me tonight."

Then she turned, putting a little extra sway in her hips, knowing he'd be watching her walk away.

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He knew he was staring. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He probably shouldn't have even walked over in the first place, but he just wanted to get a look at what she had been working on so furiously for the last two hours.

Her focus was _astonishing._

And so he moved to see what she was doing.

And then he got a hell of a lot more than he bargained for.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, bringing him back to the present. "Halstead," he almost choked his own name into the phone. He hadn't realized his mouth was so dry.

"The case with the Commander's nephew is done," Voight's gruff voice came through the line and snapped Jay back into attention.

"Oh, that's great," He peered down at his watch, seeing it was already almost 5 pm. "So what's the plan?"

In lieu of an answer, he just said, "Let me talk to Brooke."

When Jay looked up, Brooke was just walking back into the room from the back closet. She was looking down at the three different pieces of fabric in her hands, all slightly different shades of what he considered to be a red-purple color. "Brooke," Jay called her name, and she smiled when her eyes found his.

Her smile caused him to momentarily forget what he needed to say, and the moment stretched until she was standing in front of him.

She motioned towards the phone, and he handed it to her dumbly. "It's Voight," he said, trying to recover. "He wants to talk to you."

"Oh, thanks," she said, taking the phone out of his hand.

And when she turned to walk away, and he found himself staring once again.

00000000000000

"What's up, Hank?" Brooke asked nervously into the receiver, as she placed the three fabric choices onto the wooden table on the side of the room.

"Hey, kid, listen," He began, "We wrapped up the case here, and we are going to go back to focusing on Xavier."

Before she could answer, he continued. "But my team got no sleep last night, and I want them to be focused and awake when they're working on your case."

"Sure," she dragged out the word like a question, unsure of where he was going with this.

"So if it's okay with you, I'd like to send my team home for the night, and we'll pick your case back up in the morning."

Before she could answer once again, he continued. She was actually surprised, Hank was usually a man of very few words. "If that makes you uncomfortable, then we'll work through the night. Everyone here is game. It's your call."

She answered right away, no question in her mind. "Hank, send everyone home. It's _fine._ More than fine, really." She was flattered that the team was willing to go so far out of their way to help her put this behind her quickly, but for some reason she didn't really feel the need to _rush_.

Sleeping in Jay's arms last night, having Jay stand guard at her office door all day, she had never felt _more_ safe. She really was more than fine with this arrangement.

"Okay, kid," he said, but after a pause, he added. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," she confirmed, without a second thought.

"Okay, well, I'll send Jay back to your apartment with you to pick up some clothes, and then you and Millicent can stay with me tonight."

Her heart sank at his words. For some reason, she had let herself believe that she would be spending another night on the couch, resting comfortably in Jay's strong arms. _That_ had been what she meant when she said she was more than fine with this arrangement.

"Can you work out of the district again tomorrow?" Hank's voice interrupted her mental pity party, and she considered his question.

"Yes, absolutely," she said, brightening considerably.

At least this way, she'd get to see Jay tomorrow.

"Great," he said, before asking to be transferred back to Jay.

000000000000

"OH MY GOD, YOU'RE BROOKE DAVIS!" The three of them were walking on the sidewalk downtown towards Jay's car when they were stopped by a group of college aged girls.

"Oh my god, oh my god!" The second girl shouted excitedly.

"Can we _please_ have your autograph?" Asked a third girl.

Jay watched as Brooke smiled graciously at them, as she looked them in the eye when she asked each one of their names to put at the top of the autograph. He watched as she sincerely thanked them for recognizing and loving her clothes.

He was in awe of her. He was in actual awe of her. The three of them were on their way to Brooke's apartment so she could collect her clothes, so she could spend another night hiding away from a psycho stalker, and here she was, being genuine and _kind_ to a group of complete strangers.

"Does that happen often?" He asked, when they finally stepped away from the gaggle of girls. The sun was slowly setting behind the clouds, and the night air was crisp and cool, and at this point, they were speed walking to the car.

Millie answered for her, " _All the time._ "

Brooke just laughed, brushing it off like it wasn't that big of a deal, and shifted the topic to what they were going to eat for dinner that night.

But even as he slid into the car and turned on the ignition, even as he turned up the heat high enough to warm Brooke's bare legs, and even as he pulled out of his parking spot and pulled onto the main road, he was thinking about Millicent's words. _All the time._

He wasn't sure why that thought unsettled him, but it did.

Maybe it was because he didn't like the idea of strangers constantly coming up to her? Maybe it was because he worried that she was always so exposed, that she would never be able to blend seamlessly into a crowd?

Neither of those felt right, though, so he forced himself to push the unsettled thoughts away.

But they came back full force when she opened the door to her penthouse apartment.

 _Holy_ _shit,_ he thought, as the three of them stepped inside.

The apartment was _massive._ The ceiling were high, making the already large apartment feel even larger. The wooden floors gleamed, the chandeliers and light fixtures shined, and even the stacked cardboard moving boxes that lined the walls didn't take away from the clear fanciness of the place.

And that wasn't even the part that struck him upon his entry.

What truly astonished him about the apartment was the views.

The _entire_ back wall of the apartment was floor to ceiling windows, and the view of the city skyline was spectacular.

And all of a sudden, as he stood their surrounded by so much grandeur, he realized why he was feeling so unsettled.

00000000000

When Jay got to work the next morning, Brooke was already there. Millie was in the break room, behind closed doors, clearly deep in conversation with someone on the other end of the phone.

Hank was seated in his office, the wooden door opened only slightly, looking like he was already busy with work.

And Brooke was at her desk, sketching furiously, in an otherwise empty bullpen.

When Jay slipped off his jacket and placed it on the back of his chair, he looked up and caught Brooke's eyes. "Hi," he said, quietly. "How was your night?"

"Good," she replied quickly, with no semblance of a smile. She then immediately averted her gaze back to her sketches, but she didn't move the pencil resting in her hand.

Even without her avoiding his gaze, he had recognized right away that she was lying.

She looked _exhausted_. Even with the makeup she had likely applied, he could see the weariness in her eyes, in her movements. She looked like she hadn't slept a wink the whole night.

She still looked beautiful, of course, but even her beauty couldn't hide the exhaustion.

Instead of sitting at his own desk, he walked across to hers. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Not really," she shrugged her shoulders as if to say this wasn't a surprise.

It wasn't of course. Not sleeping a wink had become normal to her, ever since she walked to the front of her apartment and saw the first letter tucked under her door. But for some reason, she was much more exhausted this morning than any other morning.

Actually, it wasn't _for some reason._ She knew _exactly_ the reason.

It was because the night she spent at Jay's was the best night sleep she had gotten in _months._ Even before everything that happened with Xavier, she had been traveling and stressed over the move, and she hadn't gotten a solid night sleep in a _long_ time.

Her body must have been reminded how much she actually _needed_ sleep, how wonderful it was to close your eyes and sleep solidly, not opening them again until the morning. Her body had been skating by not realizing what it was missing. And now that her body knew, it was _craving_ another night's sleep.

It was craving another night in Jay's arms.

When he didn't answer her, she finally looked up. As she held his gaze and looked into his soft blue eyes, she noticed he looked tired, too. "Did you sleep?" She asked, repeating the question right back to him.

"Not really," he replied, in the exact same way she had.

She gave him a sad, knowing smile, and right away he knew she assumed he hadn't slept because he was thinking of the war. Because his brain had been full of the men he had lost overseas, the friends and families of the men who hadn't made it back.

Because that's what he had told her only two nights before.

Back when _that_ had been the thing keeping him up at night.

And so he decided not to correct her, not to let her know that that wasn't it _at all._

He hadn't slept because he had been tossing and turning and thinking of _her_. He had been thinking about her smile, her laugh.

He had been thinking about how much he _wanted_ her.

How he knew he would never have her.

Brooke Davis was _famous, famous._ Like dressed A-list actresses, showed her pieces in New York Fashion Week, could get a table at any restaurant she wanted, _gets randomly stopped on the street for autographs_ famous.

And when this case was over, and she went back to her glamorous life, it wouldn't matter that she was _also_ genuine and kind and _different_ from what he had expected.

She would always be famous.

And she would always be out of his league.

At a _very_ low point, around 2 am, he had pulled his laptop off his night table and googled her. As promised, he didn't google her history with Xavier. He didn't google her attack, or the subsequent rescue. He didn't google her childhood. He didn't google her name combined with Hank Voight to finally see what _that_ was all about.

Instead, he found himself on the 'Who's Dated Who' celebrity dating website.

He _hated_ himself even as he typed in her name. But he couldn't stop as he clicked through the pages.

She had been reportedly seen with _so many_ celebrities, the _least_ famous of all being Lucas Scott, and even _he_ had published two best-selling novels.

But then there had also been two NBA basketball players, a movie producer, a singer, a few actors, and a model.

Jay was a detective.

Brooke was a celebrity.

A fucking gorgeous celebrity.

A fucking gorgeous celebrity who lived in a fucking penthouse apartment overlooking the entire Chicago city skyline.

After walking on the arm offamous, _very_ attractive celebrities, he couldn't imagine she'd be eager to walk on the arm of a former Ranger turned seriously damaged detective.

God. She was _so_ fucking out of his league.

And so, he hadn't slept. He had tossed and turned all night, thinking of the way she had touched his arm and whispered flirtatiously into his ear, the way her hips swayed slightly as she walked, thinking of her smile.

He thought of her beautiful smile, and the way it had seemed to almost light up today when she looked at him. Her face had lit up _at him._

But for some reason, that thought didn't help.

Instead, thinking about that broke his heart more than any of the rest of it.

Because, he knew, it was going to hurt that much more now when it was gone.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review!**


	12. Chapter 12

Hi all :) Thanks so much for your continued interest in this story! It makes me so happy! Look out for an authors note at the bottom :) :)

Happy reading!

 **Chapter 12,**

"Brooke, are you _sure_?" Brooke and Millie were sitting and drinking coffee in the break room at district 21. The door was closed, but the shades weren't drawn, allowing them a decent view of the activity in the bullpen. The team had been gathered for the last thirty minutes to discuss the next steps in tracking down Xavier Daniels. From the infuriated look on Jay's face, Brooke could tell it wasn't going well.

"I'm sure," she replied to Millicent, really meaning it. "I really appreciate the offer, you know I do, but I'll be okay." She was trying to convince Millie _not_ to miss her 4 pm flight back to Omaha today.

"But Brooke, with everything that's going on, I just-"

"Millie, listen," she cut her off before she had a chance to continue. Millie was one of her best friends. She may have teased her about Jay when they were staying at his apartment, but she wasn't taking the _reason_ they were staying there lightly, and Brooke knew that. "I have Hank and I have Jay, and I will be fine." She paused, trying to make her tone a little lighter, "And besides, I can only handle so much of you in a row, you know," she teased.

Millie was flying to Omaha for the week, and would be back Friday morning in preparation for the Saturday opening. She would barely be gone 4 days.

"I love you, Brooke Davis," she replied, the deep red of her lipstick contrasted against the whites of her teeth as her smile widened, and her tone was only _moderately_ serious.

"I love you, too, Millicent Huxtable," she replied, matching Millie with a smile of her own. "Now," she looked at her cell phone to check the time. She knew it was past time she buy a watch, but she continued to resist. She liked clicking the button on the home screen of her iPhone. She loved that every time she wanted to check the time, her favorite photo was illuminated on the screen. It was a photo of her and Jamie Scott, her godson, and one of her favorite people in the entire world. It grounded her whenever she saw it and it put everything in perspective for her, which was something she often needed when she was checking the time, no doubt stressed or in a rush to make sure she was running on schedule. "Let's review Saturday's timeline one more time before you have to go."

"Okay," Millie replied, before they rolled up their sleeves and got to work.

0000000000000000

"This guy didn't just disappear," Hank's voice was angry, but restrained. Jay could tell he wasn't keeping his voice low for the team's benefit, but rather for Brooke and Millie's. The small, somewhat flimsy wooden door that separated the bullpen from Brooke and Millie in the break room certainly wasn't thick enough to block Hank Voight's raised voice. "Come on, there's got to be something else we can try. What about relatives?"

"He's got a brother, Jack Daniels. We're working on tracking him down," Kim replied. She and Olinsky had tried to track credit cards or any form of electronic payment that Xavier might be using, but at this point, it seemed as though he must only be using cash. It had been dead end after dead end.

"Jack Daniels?" Ruzek couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled out of him. Just for a moment, he allowed it to release some of the tension in the room.

"Like the whiskey?" Kim asked, a small smile appearing on her lips as she stood and leaned against the side of her desk.

"That's quite the name," Ruzek said, flashing his boyish grin towards Kim.

"Yeah," Atwater replied. "One brother is a murderer, the other one's named after whiskey." He and Ruzek had tracked the call logs of the cell phone Xavier was reportedly using, but other than a few phone calls last week, they found nothing.

"I'd love to meet their mother," Olinsky chimed in.

"Hey, wait, Sarge?" Atwater shifted his gaze away from Ruzek and swiveled his desk chair to face the the white board, where Voight was currently standing.

"Yeah?" Voight had dismissed the teams conversation about Jack Daniels, knowing the seriousness of this situation was in no way lost on them. Sometimes it just helped to find something to laugh about.

But he was also ready to refocus and get the team back track.

Atwater stood from where he sat as his desk and moved towards the white board, a closed manilla file folder still resting in his hands. "The cell phone Xavier has been reportedly using hasn't made a phone call in almost a week. But when you spoke to his parole officer, he reported that he's been checkin' in daily, right?"

Voight tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, then he nodded at Atwater. "Follow it up," he said, nodding towards him and Ruzek. "Halstead, I want you and Burgess looking into the family members." Ever since he had instructed - or maybe the better word was _threatened -_ Halstead to drop his attitude, he'd been doing a good job. Better than a good job, actually. He was slowly beginning to resemble the Intelligence unit member he'd been before Mouse was deployed.

Hank Voight wasn't stupid. He knew Mouse being deployed and Antonio leaving simultaneously were the reason for Halstead's recent difficulty with work. He also knew that the last partner _definitely_ wasn't the right fit for this unit. He was too soft, and this unit would destroy him. He _knew_ Halstead knew that, and he knew Halstead was looking out for him when he encouraged him to put in a transfer.

As hard as he was on Halstead, he respected the hell out of him. He knew Halstead was damn good police. And while Halstead may think his job was in jeopardy, that couldn't be further from the truth. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Olinsky can take Millicent to the airport," Voight continued.

Jay was momentarily stunned, knowing that his boss was, in his own way, letting him know he was doing a good job. "Thanks, Sarge," he said, as a knot seemed to loosen in his stomach. Then, he moved back to his desk and got to work.

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"Do you want me to go?" Brooke asked Millie. They had both finished their cups of coffee, and they had finished the run through of the timeline when Millie realized she left one of the folders she needed at the Clothes over Bros office.

"No, I'll get it, and I'll swing back here on the way to the airport to say goodbye," It was on the way, and she needed to give Brooke a copy of the papers in the folder, too.

"Okay," Brooke replied, standing from the round table and moving towards the coffee maker. Her lack of sleep the night before was continuing to take its toll, and the coffee didn't seem to be working fast enough. She felt like she needed an IV of caffeine. "I'll call Cara to let her know we want to start an hour earlier on Saturday."

"Are you sure?" Millie was the one who had been assigned that specific task, and sometimes it seemed like Brooke forgot Millie was supposed to be _her_ assistant, _not_ the other way around.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It'll take two seconds," Brooke waved her hand dismissively. "Go, go, I'll see you back here soon."

"Okay, okay," Millie said as she moved out the door.

Brooke stared at the government issued coffee maker and considered it with something resembling disdain.

If she was going to work out of here for even one more day, she reasoned it _might_ be worth investing in something better.

There was probably a full cup left in the pot, but she dumped it down the sink, hoping a fresh cup might taste at least a little bit better.

"Hey, I was gonna drink that," came a teasing voice from the doorway. When Brooke looked up, she saw Jay leaning casually against the doorway. When she saw him, she felt the knot in her stomach start to slowly unfold. He looked calm and relaxed, and the lightness of his voice allowed her to relax, too.

"I don't know how you all drink this crap all day," she replied, shaking her head in mock exasperation. "If Hank didn't force me to have a personal escort whenever I left the building, I would walk right over to Bed Bath and Beyond and buy a Nespresso," she turned back and began measuring the scoops of coffee to fill the cheap coffee maker. "I swear, one sip of that stuff..." she shook her head once again, "It'll change your life."

 _I wouldn't mind being your personal escort,_ he wanted to say, but even as he stifled the words, he couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. "I guess I'll just have to take your word for it," he said, as he moved his body closer to hers.

He was awarded with a smile this time, and he couldn't help but smile back.

For some reason, he _loved_ how unapologetic Brooke was about her love of fancy things. To him, it made her seem even more down to earth, if that made any sense.

She just wasn't trying too hard. She wasn't trying too hard to _be_ fancy, and she wasn't trying to hard to be _not_ fancy. She was who she was, and she didn't question it or apologize for it.

Once she got to know the team a little better and decided to just be herself, he noticed that she seemed completely comfortable in her own skin. He couldn't help but find it refreshing.

And maybe who she was would wind up liking him for who _he_ was.

He shook his head, trying to force that thought out of his head before it took hold. No reason to get his hopes up.

"You know," he said, his teasing tone returning full force. "I'm surprised you even know _how_ to make regular coffee. Don't you famous fashion designers have people to do that for you?" He flashed her a teasing grin, as he reached over and began to pull two fresh mugs off the shelf.

She flashed to the dozens of times Millicent had brought her her favorite coffee, a mocha double latte with extra foam, but instead of revealing _that_ little piece of information, she just pulled the now finished brewing pot and began to pour it into the two mugs Jay had designated. "Well, prepare to be amazed," she said cheekily, as the steam rose into their faces.

He held her gaze, looking at her through the steam rising from the coffee mugs and said, completely seriously, "I already am."

0000000000000

Brooke was back at what she was now starting to think of as _her_ desk, working on the jackets for her fall line. She had completed the deep brown jacket that she had finally decided actually _should_ be suede instead of leather, and she was now working on a deep green jacket.

While she worked, she continued to steal glances at Jay from across the room.

 _I already am._

She has said _Prepare to be amazed._

And then he had said _I already am._

 _I already am!_

And the way he was looking at her when he said the words, with his deep blue eyes completely genuine, she could tell that he meant it. That it wasn't just a line.

Even if it was, by far, the best one she'd ever heard.

Her breath caught in her throat and she had tilted her head ever so slightly towards him in response, and now that she thought about it, she was grateful Kim had interrupted them. Even though she had ended up banging her hip into the counter as she straightened, which was _very_ embarrassing, she was grateful she hadn't made a _complete_ fool of herself, trying to kiss him in his place of work.

Jesus. That would have been a _disaster._

But, thankfully, it hadn't been a disaster, because Kim had come to find him, letting him she had a new lead.

The two of them had been busy working ever since, hovering over their computer screen as Brooke pretended to sketch, but really just found moments to study him across the room when he wasn't looking.

Every small contour, every tiny line, and every design decision was taking three times as long as usual.

She forced herself to focus back on the jacket. She pulled out the sketch of the dress she planned to pair it with, trying to determine how much detailing she should use for the jacket. Should the copper buttons be shiny or matte? Should she add a small zipper on the sleeve?

The bullpen was relatively quiet, with Voight in his office, Olinsky escorting Millie to the store, and Ruzek and Atwater out following up on a lead.

In the past few days, she had started to get to know and to really _like_ the members of the team. They seemed like they had each other's backs, almost like a family. It was really nice.

 _Stop,_ she thought again. _Focus!_

Except the more she told herself to focus, the less focused she became.

She'd been stealing another glance at Jay when she heard heels slamming up the stairs. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard _two_ sets of heels. One set that was quiet, mild even - definitely Millie - and another that sounded like it belonged to-

Fuck.

She stood, immediately bracing herself for the woman that was about to appear.

And when she did, Victoria appeared wearing a slim fitting black dress paired with a black and white blazer and a several long strands of what Brooke knew to be _real_ pearls around her neck.

Millie hurried in behind her. "Brooke, I'm so sorry." Millicent began, rushing towards her. "She was waiting outside the store when I got there, and-"

"Don't apologize for me, Millicent." Victoria interrupted, without even a glance in her direction. She _always_ treated Millie like she was _just_ Brooke's assistant.

"What are doing here, Victoria?" Brooke kept her voice steady and firm, even as she wanted to shrink at her glare.

She could hear Hank move out of his office and into the bullpen, undoubtedly wondering what the commotion was about.

She _knew_ Jay and Kim's eyes had to be squarely on her.

But she didn't shrink, she didn't look away. Instead, she held her head high and asked again. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Victoria said, as she slammed her purse down on the wooden desk. "I don't know _what_ either one of us is doing here," she said, scowling and motioning her finger around the bullpen. "But if you're asking why am I in Chicago," she said, pursing her lips. "Then you're stupid. You _know_ why I'm here."

Brooke bristled at the word stupid.

She could excuse every other god awful word in the dictionary. Any other word or phrase Victoria wanted to throw at her was _fine._

But she _hated_ the word stupid.

"I don't need your help with the opening, and I don't _want_ your help with the opening," she said, trying to keep herself composed.

"Well," Victoria said, "That's too bad. Because I'm not leaving." She moved closer, so that there faces were only a few inches apart. "Chicago is a very important market, Brooke, and I'm not about to let _you_ screw it up."

Brooke wasn't sure what made her snap. She wasn't sure if it was Victoria's tone, or her threat, or the insinuation that Brooke was going to somehow screw up this important market.

Maybe it was the insinuation that Brooke didn't already know that Chicago was an important fucking market.

Or maybe, it was the fact that she barged in here and called her stupid, _again_.

Or maybe, it was the fact that she barged in here and called her stupid in front of Jay.

But whatever it was, Brooke took a step closer so that their faces were practically touching, and said, "I don't need you here and mycompany doesn't _need_ you here. In fact, my company doesn't _need_ you at all. You're fired, Victoria."

"You can't _fire_ me," she retorted.

Brooke didn't respond right away, waiting for the moment the realization hit Victoria that actually, she _could_ fire her _._

And when that moment came, and she finally spoke again, her voice was completely devoid of emotion. "I just did."

Brooke had expected to feel sad, she had expected tears to well up, she expected to feel a sense of loss. But she didn't. She felt none of those things. "Goodbye, mother," she said, finally, and then she turned and walked away.

No, she wasn't sure _what_ came over her.

But whatever it was, _god,_ it felt damn good.

 **xoxo**

Hi guys :) Quick question! I have kept this story mostly in Chicago, and I know some of the people reading this story didn't actually watch OTH, so I am still trying to decide if I should bring any other OTH characters into this. Obviously, I brought in Millie and have mentioned Victoria, but I also had a potential plan for bringing in some other characters, but I could also not. LOL, drop me a review and let me know what you think :) :) Thank you!


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you all so much for the feedback and the reviews :) I appreciate it so much! Hope you're all having a great week!

 **Chapter 13,**

It took Jay less than 30 seconds to see the resemblance.

The woman walking up the stairs slamming her black high heels against the linoleum floor was Brooke's mother. It was clear as day.

The thing that had thrown Jay for a loop was the fact that Brooke's mother was _also_ Victoria.

Victoria, the woman who had put a hold on the New York merchandise, who had sabotaged Brooke's Tree Hill opening.

Jay may have had his issues with his father - the word issues actually being a _huge_ understatement - but his mother had been kind. She'd been warm and caring and, well, maternal.

Jay often thought that if his mother's passing hadn't been _before_ the end of his military service, he might have actually been okay. He might have come home and felt supported, he might have even gotten the help he needed. Because that's what mother's were for their children: the help they needed.

So as he stood in the bullpen, watching Victoria Davis talk down to her daughter, his heart broke.

Mother's weren't supposed to bring you down, they were supposed to build you up.

He should know. He had had one of the best ones.

When Victoria called Brooke stupid, Jay watched as Brooke visibly flinched, as if she'd been physically slapped across the face.

Jay had wanted to step in in that moment, almost had actually. Every fiber in his being was screaming at him to protect Brooke. To protect his girl.

But he stopped himself in the last second, realizing it wasn't his place. She wasn't _his_ girl.

And as it turned out, Brooke Davis didn't need protecting.

"You're fired, Victoria."

"You can't _fire_ me."

"I just did."

Then Jay watched from behind his desk as Brooke walked away with her head held high.

Damn. This girl really did _never_ ceased to amaze him.

And at that thought, he allowed his mind to drift back to their encounter in the break room. He couldn't be certain, but he was _pretty sure_ she'd been about to kiss him.

He wasn't sure if it was just wishful thinking, if his imagination was playing tricks on him because he _wanted_ her to kiss him so badly, but he didn't think that's what it is.

The way she had lifted her chin ever so slightly, inching closer to him, and the way she had momentarily swept her gaze over his lips.

God. He couldn't _believe_ Kim had interrupted the moment. He _really_ wanted to kill her.

But the lead had been good, they had found out that Jack Daniels currently lived _in_ Chicago, and making that connection had been huge.

"Excuse me," Jay's thoughts were thrust back to the present by the sound of Victoria Davis' shrill voice.

She wasn't talking to him, but he looked up just the same.

"Millicent," Victoria turned towards Millie, who was standing sheepishly next to Ruzek's desk. "I'm going to need you to call me a car." Jay noticed that Victoria was stoic, barely showing any emotion.

"Okay," Millie whispered, rustling through her tan leather purse to look for something. Likely, her phone.

 _What? Stop._ Once again, Jay wanted to step in. Brooke just _fired_ Victoria, meaning Millie didn't owe her a goddamn thing. And she _certainly_ didn't need to do her bidding.

But once again, Jay held himself back. He wasn't sure why he felt so compelled to put himself in the middle of Brooke's business, but he knew needed to stifle the urge.

Instead, he just stood quietly, his fists clutched tightly at his sides, as Millie called to order a car service.

"Jay," Kim whispered from beside him. "I found Jack Daniels' location," she was looking down at her computer, clicking around the screen.

He released his closed fists, allowing some of the tension to release simultaneously, and he moved towards her. He bent down and peered over her shoulder at the location highlighted on the screen. It was less than 5 miles from where they stood.

"Let's go tell Voight."

00000000000

Jay moved towards the locker room, feeling more confident than he had in days. Voight was sending _him_ with Kim to bring in Jack Daniels.

Burgess was the newest member of the team, and she was partnered with the most senior member for the partly for the purposes of teaching, but mostly to keep her safe.

The fact that Hank Voight was sending him out into the city with Burgess meant that he _trusted_ Jay to keep Kim safe. Just as Voight had trusted him to keep Brooke safe.

He must be doing something right.

When he opened the door to the locker room, he stopped short when he saw Brooke standing over the sink. Her hands bracing herself on each side of the porcelain sink, and her shoulders were hunched over, seemingly filled with tension.

She was staring at herself in the mirror, and the composure she had kept so brilliantly with her mother present now seemed to be fading fast.

"Hey," he said, keeping his voice soft so as not to startle her. She lifted her hands off the sides of the sink, and began to pull her blue cardigan tightly around her.

"Hey," she sad back, not turning around, but instead finding his eyes through the mirror.

"That was..." he stopped, unsure of what the right word was. Completely horrible but at the same time unbelievably impressive? Neither of those sentiments seemed right. "Intense," he finally said after a long pause.

"Yeah," she said, nodding her head slightly. He saw that tears seemed to be filling her eyes slightly, and once again he noticed that Brooke Davis was the most beautiful crier he had ever seen. Hands down.

"Are you okay?" He felt like he had been asking her that a lot lately. If not that question, then at least different variations of it. And he knew even as he formed the words that it was a dumb question. _Of course_ she wasn't okay.

She took a deep breath and turned, until she was finally facing him. She nodded her head slightly, in a way that he knew did not actually mean yes.

He waited for her to speak, to fill the silence that was growing in the room.

When she finally spoke, a lone tear fell across her face. "I think I'm just exhausted."

At the understanding look in his eyes, Brooke decided to move closer to him.

She was overtired, and exhausted, and at this point, possibly delirious. But for some reason she was also feeling courageous.

As evidenced by the fact that she just fired her mother.

So, she continued to move towards him until she stood merely inches away, and then she whispered, "The other night, on the couch," she looked up at him, and marveled at the intensity of his blue gaze. "I can't remember the last time I slept that well."

"Me neither," he whispered back so quietly that she may not have heard him, if she wasn't actively _staring_ at his lips.

She wanted to lean in and take possession of those lips so badly.

And she wasn't _exactly_ sure what was stopping her.

She had kissed _a lot_ of boys. She had initiated first kisses more times than she could count. She had moved into their bodies, teasing them until they were putty in her hands, and then finally laying her lips on theirs.

Not to mention the time she slipped into the backseat of a man's car completely naked, teasing even more.

And actually, that had happened _twice._

It was all a game. And it had been one she had _always_ enjoyed playing.

But for some reason, standing here between the blue lockers and the wooden bench, staring into Jay Halstead's eyes, she didn't _want_ to tease. And she _didn't_ want to play.

She didn't want to initiate a kiss, she didn't want to _force_ him into it.

She didn't want to have to _convince_ him she was worth knowing, that there was more to her than just clothes, like she had tried to with all the others.

Jay had already seen the most raw parts of her. She had already revealed more to him than she had to anyone else in a _long_ time. Maybe ever.

And so, there wasn't much more she could do. She had bared her soul, and he needed to decide what he wanted to do with it.

No more games.

"Jay," the door to the locker room banged open, and while they couldn't see Kim from their hidden position behind the lockers, Brooke recognized the voice loud and clear. "Are you ready?"

Jay took a step back. _Fucking Kim,_ he thought.

He had been two seconds away from pressing hip lips against Brooke's, from forgetting about everything else but the two of them in that moment. "Yeah," he replied, giving Brooke an apologetic smile. "I'm coming."

He holstered his gun on his hip and closed his locker, but as he moved past Brooke, he just couldn't help himself. He allowed his body to brush up against hers, even though there was _more_ than enough space for him to bypass her body completely.

And since he was already pressing his luck, he leaned in close and whispered against her ear, "To be continued."

When he noticed her shiver against him, he just smiled.

No, he hadn't felt _this_ confident in work or in life in a long, long time.

000000000000

When the coast was finally clear, Brooke pulled herself together, and went back into the bullpen. She said goodbye to a _very_ apologetic Millicent, and sent her and Olinsky on their way.

She called the four stores that were shipping merchandise to the Clothes over Bros Chicago office, and confirmed that they had, in fact, shipped them out. Then, she called FedEx to verify the orders were in their possession and would be ordered tomorrow morning.

She knew she was being extra cautious, but she also wouldn't have put it past Victoria to somehow follow through on screwing this up.

She had never followed through on being an _actual_ parent, but trying to tear down her daughter, well, she certainly knew how to follow through on that.

When Brooke was done with her phone calls, she knew she should try to get the rest of her sketches done. She had two more jackets to complete, and she hadn't even started the Fall pants. And those were going to be a _huge_ focus of her Fall line.

And with the bull pen as quiet as it was, and with Jay _finally_ not sitting across from her looking all sexy and distracting, she could probably even focus for more than 5 minutes at a time.

But since she was still exhausted from the night before, and she had adrenaline from Jay's _To be continued_ still running through her veins, she decided she was feeling brave.

She knew the exhaustion and adrenaline were a _very_ bad combination, but _whatever._

"Hey," she said, as she knocked on the already open door to Hank's office. "Mind if I talk to you for a second?" She asked.

"Of course, kid." Hank replied, motioning for her to take a seat. "What can I do for you?"

She took the seat he offered and peered at him from across the desk. He had aged slightly since she had first met him, but still had the same protective look in his eye. And he still had the same leather jacket. "I don't even know to begin to thank you for all of this," she shook her head in slight exasperation at all he had done for her.

"Your whole team," Brooke continued. "You took on my case, you let me work in your bullpen and _completely_ invade your space with my personal drama," she tilted her head slightly at that, letting him know she appreciated no one making a big deal about her mother's sudden appearance and subsequent disappearance. "And to top it all off, you opened your home to me."

"Brooke," he said her name softly, and it caused her to smile. "I told you I'd always be there for you."

"Yeah," she said, remembering the day he handed over his card. She remembered how he took her for coffee in the middle of the night in New York City, how he'd covered her shaking hand with his own, and how he told her that she could _always_ count on him. She wasn't even sure what made her believe those words. People had been letting her down her whole life, but for some reason she just knew Hank Voight wouldn't be one of them. "But that was 10 years ago."

"My card doesn't have an expiration date, kid," he replied, plainly.

"I know," she whispered. "I know."

"Brooke," he said her name again, this time dragging out slightly in the form of a question. "I know you didn't come in here to drag out the past. What's really going on?"

"I... uh... I want to stay with Jay tonight," she rushed out the words before she could change her mind, and she flushed slightly at the admission.

"Oh." He hadn't been expecting that. "Okay." He considered her for a second, taking in her slightly rosy cheeks, the way he could almost _hear_ her racing heart from across the desk, and then asked, "Is something going on there?"

"No." _Not yet._

 _Yeah, right._ "Okay."

"I just-"

"Brooke," he stopped her. "I'm here for you for whatever you need, you know that. But you're an adult, and as long as I know you're safe, you can choose where you want to stay." He was just glad she wasn't insisting on staying alone in her apartment. Because that's _actually_ what he'd been expecting.

He'd been ready to assign a fleet of squad cars to her watch her place. Stubborn as nails Brooke Davis didn't shy away from anyone, and if she had set her mind to staying alone and saying _screw you, Xavier_ he's not sure he would've been able to change her mind.

"Thanks, Hank," she said, thoughtfully, tears of gratitude forming in her eyes.

"Hey, none of that," he said, immediately, gesturing towards her growing tears. "Go get back to work."

She wasn't sure why he had decided to believe her back then, to believe _in_ her, but she would always be forever grateful to him.

But instead of telling him that and further dragging up the past, she just let out a small laugh, smiled at him, said "Okay," and went back to work.

0000000000

Brooke completed the last of the jacket designs just in time to hear footsteps ascending the stairs. When she looked up, expecting to see Jay and Kim back from their errand, she almost jumped from her seat. They weren't alone.

"Jack?" She ran towards him, taking in his appearance as she ran. His curly hair, the hair that had been overgrown when he had spent nights sleeping on her living room couch, was now trimmed neatly against his head. His dark jeans and light grey University of Chicago t-shirt looked crisp and clean. He actually looked _good._

A wave of relief ran over her. "What are you doing here?" She rested her hands on either one of his shoulders, as if to make sure he was _really_ there in front of her.

"Brooke?" was all he managed to reply.

Jack looked just as confused to see her standing in the bullpen, and that's when Brooke noticed the sheepish look on Kim's face, and the bewildered one on Jay's.

Brooke turned to Jay, as a wave of understanding took hold. "Jay," she dragged out the name in the form of a question, her hands still resting squarely on Jack's shoulders. "What is Jack doing here?" She kept her voice calm, but stern.

Jay paused for a long moment before he found the words to answer. But as he did, Brooke turned back to Jack, ignoring Jay's words.

Because in those few moments of silence, with her mind in overdrive, Brooke had stopped listening.

Because suddenly the world was falling out from under her.

 _I should've finished the job when I had the chance._

"Jack," she said, her steady voice starting to break. "Where's Sam?"

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review**


	14. Chapter 14

Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the reviews and for your patience this week :) I probably won't be able to post another chapter until the end of the week :/

 **Chapter 14**

"I'm telling you, he's _not_ involved." Brooke took a break from her pacing to motion towards the closed break room door, behind which Jack was seated at the table with a hot cup of coffee.

"We're not saying he's involved," Jay tried to clarify. Each member of the team was back in the bullpen, standing or sitting by his or her designated desk.

Except Brooke, who was pacing on four inch black stiletto heels back and forth across the floor.

If Jay wasn't trying to understand what Brooke was so upset about, he may have found her strut kind of sexy.

Okay, _very_ sexy. But he pushed those thoughts out of his mind. "We're just saying-"

"Come on, Sam," Brooke said, ignoring Jay's words and muttering under her breath. She had just gotten Sam's voicemail for a third time in a row, and she pulled her phone off her ear to dial her number once again.

"Brooke," Hank stepped away from where he was standing at the white board, and moved closer to Brooke. "Ruzek is working on tracking Sam's phone," he tried to keep his voice clear and calm. "Why don't you tell us how you know Jack."

Hank had been the one to instruct Halstead and Burgess to bring Jack Daniels in. None of them had expected Brooke to _know_ Jack, and they _certainly_ hadn't expected her to seem protective of him. Their encounter in the bullpen had left them all confused. And ever since Kim had ushered Jack into the break room, Brooke had been too worked up to give an explanation.

Sure enough, Brooke was still too worked up to give them one. "I need to find Sam," she said, single-mindedly, her cell phone once again pressed against her ear, the sound of the ringing reverberating in her head.

It was Jay's turn to try again. He moved towards Brooke and slowly put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to turn and face him. Her arms slid down, the phone still dialing by her side. "Brooke, we are going to find Sam, okay?" He waited a beat, noticing the tears slowly welling up in her eyes. "But we need you to tell us what's going on in that beautiful head of yours."

Jay ignored the eyebrow raises that were likely going on all over the room. He knew this was his best bet. He needed to remind Brooke that he was the same guy from the other night on the couch, that he would _never_ let anything happen to her, or to Sam. "Tell us how you know Jack," he said quietly, "And tell us how he knows Sam," he pleaded.

Brooke let out a deep breath, and finally allowed a lone tear to fall slowly down her cheek. She allowed Jay to walk her to her chair, and when he sat her down, he pulled up a chair right next to hers.

She felt her knees bump against his, and she ignored the jolt of electricity that came with it. She tried to focus on his eyes, to find comfort in them. It helped, she realized, pretending he was the only one in the room.

He would help her. She _knew_ he would help her.

"Jack and Sam were friends back in Tree Hill. I didn't know much about his brother... well, _before_... and so, one morning I found Jack sneaking out of Sam's window." She smile slightly at the memory, Sam with her completely mussed hair, shoving a terrified Jack out of the window. "Sam told me he had a rough home life, and so I told him he could sleep over whenever he wanted. On the couch, of course," this time she allowed a real smile. She had been _so_ mad at Sam when she found a boy in her bed. She was a cool mom, but not _that_ cool.

"Anyway," she said, refocusing back on her story. "Jack didn't know his brother attacked me, he didn't know his brother killed Quentin Fields. He never knew any of it," she shook her head at the memory. That boy had been through so much.

"And you're sure about that?" Jay kept his voice completely calm so she knew he wasn't accusing Jack of anything. He just needed to be sure.

"One hundred percent," she replied.

"Okay, so how did he end up in Chicago?" As much as he wanted to listen to Brooke's stories, to hear about all of the parts of her life with Sam, about her life in general, he needed to get to the bottom of why she was so worried.

"Jack was placed in foster care, and he was matched up with a really good family." He'd been one of the lucky ones, she knew. "And after he graduated from high school, they sent him to college in Chicago. Jack and Sam, they stayed in touch and she moved out here to go to school with him. They _live_ together now."

"When's the last time you spoke to Sam?" Jay asked, his voice growing urgent, as he realized that if Jack and Brooke were both here and Xavier _was_ in Chicago, Sam was completely and utterly alone.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit._

"A few days ago." Brooke and Sam had kept in touch ever since Sam had gone to live with her mom. They spoke on the phone, texted, and Sam often sent her postcards from wherever she was. Sam had been _thrilled_ when Brooke told her she was moving to Chicago, that they were finally going to be living in the same town again. "I didn't tell her about Xavier," Brooke admitted. "I didn't want to scare her."

Brooke closed her eyes slightly, allowing herself to fully remember. She thought back to that day, when she was terrified and looking everywhere for a missing Sam. She remembered the moment she discovered Xavier was her attacker, and she remembered combing through every inch of his house until she found Sam, somehow knowing she was there.

She remembered finding Sam - hands and feet tied, tape plastered over her mouth, tears streaked down on her face - stuffed in his closet.

"We need to find her," she finally said. "But I promise you, Jack _isn't_ involved," she wanted to make that perfectly clear. He was a good kid.

"I believe you," Jay replied, covering her hands with his own. The air was charged in the room, even though it was full of people. "But we still want to ask him questions. Maybe he knows something. Maybe he has information that will help us, information he doesn't even realize he has. Okay?"

She stared into Jay's thoughtful blue eyes, realizing he was doing everything he could think of to help. Everything he could think of to calm her raw, exposed nerves. "Okay," she whispered back, giving him permission to finally get to work.

He gave her a soft smile, and then moved away from his desk.

Hank, who had been watching the whole encounter, wanting desperately to investigate what the _hell_ was going on with Brooke Davis and his best detective, but knowing now _wasn't_ the time, began barking orders.

"Burgess, Al," his gruff voice returning full force. "Go back to Jack and Sam's apartment, see if there is any sign of struggle since you were last there." He shifted his gaze, "Ruzek, did you find her phone's location?"

"Um..." Ruzek continued to stare at his computer, clicking at the black mouse fiercely. "Yes. At the corner of Wabash and Michigan," he said, finally looking up and meeting his boss's eyes.

"Go," was all Hank said, nodding at Ruzek and Atwater. They sprung from their seats, and moved towards the locker room to get their gear.

Then, he turned to Brooke and Halstead. "Brooke, do you want to come in while we talk to him?"

 _Yes._

 _No._

 _I don't know._

She looked towards Jay, who gave her a soft smile and shook his head, giving her the answer she needed. "No," she said, finally, "I'll stay out here."

"Okay," Hank nodded. "Halstead, let's go."

She watched them disappear into the break room, and she put her head in her hands. She finally had the privacy she needed, and she let the tears fall.

 _She needs to be okay_ , she thought, helplessly.

She closed her eyes, and she heard Xavier's words in her head once again.

 _I should've finished the job when I had the chance._

Xavier had meant those words in reference to Brooke. He had _wished_ he killed her that day in the store.

But he hadn't. She was still here.

But now, he was probably thinking those same things once again. This time in reference to Sam.

Last time, Brooke had made it in time. She had found her, and brought her home. And so Xavier hadn't finished that job either.

God. She _needed_ to find her again.

Because she didn't believe for one second that Xavier wouldn't finish the job this time, if he got the chance.

 _I should've finished the job when I had the chance._

This time, when she closed her eyes, she imagined herself saying the words.

 _I should've finished the job when I had the chance._

She remembered the feel of the cold metal gun in the her hands, she remembered the clicking sound it made when she removed the safety.

She remembered the fear in his eyes as she pressed the gun against his forehead, ready to fire. Ready to finally end this for real.

Yeah. Now it was _her_ turn to wish she had finished the job when she had the chance.

She wouldn't make that mistake again.

000000000000

"Have you heard from him since he was released from prison?" Jay was leading the questioning, although Voight chimed in when necessary.

"No," Jack said, looking down at his hands folded around the deep blue mug. The mug of coffee was still full, but it had gone completely cold. He _hated_ coffee, but he had appreciated having something to do with his hands. "I didn't even know he got out."

"Evidently, he got out early for good behavior," Jay said, coolly.

Jack seemed to snort at that thought, but he finally looked up to reply. "That's just because he wasn't actually convicted for killing Quentin Fields." He shook his head with clear disgust.

Jack knew he should feel some sort of compassion for his brother. They were blood, after all. But he didn't. Not in the slightest.

But if he was being honest, it wasn't the fact that his brother had killed Quentin. Or even that he attacked Brooke. It was the fact that he had put his disgusting hands on Sam. _His_ Sam.

Yeah. His brother could die in prison, he could go straight to hell, and Jack was pretty sure he wouldn't lose a moment of sleep, as long as he had Sam firmly in his arms. "They should've left him there to rot."

"Well," Jay said, trying to think of a response that _wasn't '_ I completely agree'. "He was released about two weeks ago." Jay was pretty sure the disgust was clear in his voice, but at least he had stifled the angry words. "Can you think of any reason he would come to Chicago?"

The implication in his question was clear. There were two reasons Xavier Daniels would want to come to Chicago: To see his brother or to seek revenge on Brooke Davis.

And if he didn't come to see his brother...

"He didn't come to see me," Jack confirmed.

"What about your parents?" Jay asked.

"They're dead," Jack replied, quickly.

Jay continued to ask questions, hoping he could find another reason. Any other reason. Anything at all.

But it certainly wasn't looking good.

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"Brooke?" Twenty minutes later when Jay walked out of the break room with Hank, he had been surprised to find the bull pen completely empty. He moved towards the locker room, remembering that it had been only a few hours ago that she gone there, using it as an escape from her mother.

When he opened the door, he didn't see her right away. But as he moved further into the room, he saw her sitting on one of the wooden benches.

 _At least she's done pacing,_ he thought, as he moved to sit near her.

Without another word, he wrapped his arm around her, allowing her to fully lean into him. She didn't even attempt to resist the movement, instead leaning her body against his and pressing her head into the crook of his neck.

"We have a lead to follow up on," he said. "And we have everyone out looking for her." He used the hand that was wrapped around her and began caressing the top of her arm with his fingers, using the other hand to smooth her hair out of her face. "Everything is going to be okay," he paused, knowing he shouldn't add the next part, but allowing it to slip from his lips just the same. "I promise."

The tension that remained in her body seemed to fall away at his final words, and she softened into his embrace.

That's when the tears came.

He held her for what seemed like hours, even though he _knew_ he needed to get back to work.

And when the tears finally subsided, he lifted her chin off of his shoulder, and held her face in his hands.

Because even know he _knew_ it wasn't the right time, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He couldn't stop himself from leaning in ever so slightly, never breaking eye contact as he moved. He watched her hazel eyes widen, before they drifted closed.

And then, he placed his lips gently on hers.

And just for a moment they forgot everything.

Jay forgot that she was _the_ Brooke Davis and that he was just a detective. He forgot his fear of loving someone so deeply that losing them would ruin him. He forgot the faces of the widows, he forgot the faces of his friends. He forgot that he never imagined he could ever deserve to kiss something so unbelievably precious. He forgot the doubt, and the fear, and the worry, and the sadness.

Brooke forgot how scared she was. She forgot about the letters, and the attack, and everything in between. She forgot about the _years_ before the attack, about all the other times she had been left heartbroken and alone. She forgot about closing off her heart, protecting it from people who might just be able to break it. She forgot about the doubt, and the fear, and the worry, and the sadness.

Their lips met, and they forgot it all.

He kissed her, breathing in the scent of her skin and feeling the warmth of her body under his hands. She kissed him back, reveling in the sensations that felt equal parts exciting and new, but also safe and comfortable. As their kiss deepened and grew more intimate, the world completely fell away. It was just the two of them, wrapped together... lips, hands, hearts.

Until the knock at the door forced them to pull away.

Until the words came that shattered Brooke's world.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review**

I know, I know, I left you with a cliffhanger and I'm taking a few days break, I'm sorry! But I'm hoping the kiss will hold you for a few days ;)


	15. Chapter 15

Hi everyone! I know I said I wasn't going to be uploading a chapter until later in the week, but I have been so stressed with studying and what do I always do instead of studying?! Write. LOL. So this is a bonus chapter, after which I really won't be posting until the end of the week. For real this time lol.

Happy reading :) :)

 **Chapter 15**

"They found Sam's phone."

The air seemed to be sucked right out of the room at the statement.

Jay wasn't proud of his first thought when he heard those words. _Thank God._

Of course, he didn't mean _Thank God they found Sam's phone_. He meant _Thank God Brooke decided to sit on the one wooden bench not immediately visible from the locker room door._

But either way, he knew it was a pretty shitty first thought. But his lips were still tingling from the feel of Brooke's pressed against his, so he just couldn't help it.

"Wh-what?" Brooke managed to stammer out the words even as she stood from her place on the wooden bench and moved out from behind the lockers until Hank Voight was standing in her line of sight.

"Ruzek and Atwater found Sam's phone," Voight repeated, unsure if he needed to spell out the implications further.

He didn't.

Brooke was already reeling. They found Sam's phone. Presumably, without Sam attached to it. Because otherwise, they would have said they found Sam.

Sam was missing.

This was no longer something in Brooke's head, something she feared while simultaneously attempting to convince herself wasn't true. She could no longer hang on to the notion that she was just worrying for no reason, letting her wild imagination get the best of her.

No, not anymore. Sam was _for real_ missing.

Not just missing, Brooke realized. Sam had been taken.

Taken by Xavier.

And of that fact, Brooke was one hundred percent sure.

She had never felt his presence so strongly, and she knew with every fiber of her being that he was in here in Chicago. With Sam.

She allowed her memories of Sam to slowly fill the corners of her mind. Not just the day she had been kidnapped and rescued, that first day Sam had called her mom, but also all the other days, too.

The day she invited Sam to live with her, sitting across from each other in the old style diner while Sam poured half the contents of the sugar into her white coffee-filled mug.

The struggles in the beginning, Sam sneaking out or stealing her things. The way Sam had pushed the boundaries, needing to see rather than hear that Brooke wasn't going anywhere.

The night Brooke slept in the trunk of a car with Sam, the night they finally had their break through. Soon after, the first morning Sam had sat down for breakfast on time.

The day that Sam had won the essay contest at school, and Brooke had proudly displayed it on her fridge.

The day Sam had worn the purple dress.

 _Victoria says I look like a Davis in that dress._

 _Honey, you'll always be a Davis to me._

 _You'll always be my first mom._

The day she left and went to live with her birth mom.

And then all the letters and the phone calls and the visits since that day. Brooke was so proud of the life Sam had created for herself, and she felt so blessed to still be a part of it.

Sam _needed_ to be okay.

"Brooke?"

Brooke looked up at Voight, when she finally reached the open locker room door.

It was remarkable, really, how many thoughts could ricochet through a persons head in the amount of time it took to walk five feet.

"Yeah," Brooke replied, her voice barely a whisper.

She was facing Hank, responding to the question he had formed with her name, but from behind her, she could _feel_ the warmth of Jay as he moved closer.

"We're going to find her," Hank stated confidently.

She nodded, giving Hank the impression that he had calmed her fears.

But it was really Jay that gave her even a modicum of relief. She allowed his warmth to bring her strength, to ease her fears. His mere presence soothed her more than any words ever could.

And when he laid his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently, she allowed herself to relax even more.

Because she knew he would _never_ let anything happen to Sam _._

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"What do we know?" Moments later, Hank, Jay, and Brooke had returned to the bullpen to face the rest of the team.

"The phone was uncovered in a dumpster at the corner of Michigan and Wabash," Atwater began. "She sent Jack a text message an hour ago telling her she would be home soon. So we're thinking she had her phone at that time."

"Couldn't Xavier have sent that message?" Brooke asked. She knew she wasn't supposed to get involved, that it wasn't her job or even her place. But then, she'd be damned if she didn't speak up when the closest thing she had to a daughter was in trouble.

"We thought about that," Ruzek replied, not deterred at all by Brooke's question. He could see the worry lines clear on her face, and he understood her need to chime in. "But she sent a two other messages around that time to friends and she also played a round of Words with Friends. She played her last word an hour and ten minutes ago."

"Okay," Hank nodded. He had been about to voice the same question, and was satisfied with that answer. "She was coming from class. Did anyone see anything?"

"A girl in her apartment building reported seeing an old gold Toyota Corolla rushing out of the parking lot," Kim began. Nothing has been out of place in the apartment when they combed through it, so the working theory, in Kim's opinion, was that Xavier had been waiting for Sam in the parking lol.

Kim moved towards the front of the room, and she pulled a picture out of a file folder and pinned it to the board. "She said it was probably a 1998 or a 1999, and it had a large dent on the back bumper. We ran that information through traffic cameras and found a match. It's registered to a Lynn Carter."

"Do you recognize that name?" Jay asked Brooke quietly. He hadn't moved from his position sitting beside her, even though he was several feet from his own desk. He also hadn't moved his hand from her bare knee, which was hidden beneath the desk and away from the team.

Although, he wasn't sure he was fooling anyone.

"I don't." She paused, considering the name for a moment. "Maybe Jack will?"

"We can ask him," Olinsky said, pulling a paper from his own desk and moving towards the board. "But either way, she has a house registered to her name three blocks from Wabash Ave."

That was all Voight needed to hear. "Suit up, lets go," he said, moving quickly towards his office to grab his gear.

When he walked out of his office he found Brooke waiting for him. "Hank," she said, her voice strong and full of the determination he remembered she had at 18. "I'm coming with you."

"You can't come with-"

"Hank," she cut him off. "I'm coming with you." She repeated the words, letting him know this was _not_ up for discussion.

"Okay," he conceded. But only because he decided she could stay safely in the car. He didn't hate the idea of knowing exactly where she was, of being in close enough proximity to protect her if he needed to.

It was not because of her commanding tone. He knew he could easily win this argument if he tried. She may be Brooke Davis, but he was still Hank Voight.

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Brooke sat in the front seat of Hank's car, watching the team gather outside. They were two houses down, partially hidden behind several large oak trees. The fog that had settled low to the ground in the ugly, overcast day provided them the rest of the protection they needed.

"What's the plan, Sarge?" Ruzek asked, as they huddled together next to the car.

"Olinsky, Burgess - you take the back entrance. Halstead and I will go in the front. Ruzek, Atwater, I want you to split up and each take a side entrance. Don't get into the house, just cover the exits and make sure you have a visual of the front and backyards. Watch the windows, too. If there's any movement, radio in and let us know." Voight ordered.

The team nodded their heads in understanding, and began pulling the long guns from the trunks of the cars.

"Okay, let's move," Voight said to his team when they were all ready.

Halstead followed Voight as they moved towards the front entrance of the dilapidated house. The walkway that lead to the front door was lined with weeds sprouting through the deep cracks in the pavement. The grass was completely overgrown, as if it hadn't been mowed since last winter.

The pair ascended the stairs quietly, and assessed the front door. It was a rusty red, it's rundown nature seemingly matching the rest of the house.

Voight nodded his head, motioning for Halstead to kick in the door.

The door flew open as soon as Jay's metal boot made contact. "Chicago PD," he yelled, the sentiment doubling as an announcement of their arrival and a signal for Olinsky and Burgess to enter quietly through the back entrance.

The moment Jay stepped through the door, he was met with Xavier's menacing eyes.

Well, this eyes _and_ the barrel of his long gun. It wasn't as new, as fancy, as sleek and black as long gun Jay was presently holding, but it would certainly do the job.

The hand that wasn't holding the gun was wrapped around a thin, brown-haired girl. Her deep brown eyes had a terrified look in them.

And he had a knife pressed against the girl's throat.

 _Sam,_ he thought, as his heart leapt into his throat. He couldn't help but be glad Brooke wasn't in the room to see her petrified expression.

He surely wouldn't forget it anytime soon.

"Xavier," Jay cautioned, as he heard Voight move slowly behind him, Voight's gun likely aimed squarely at Xavier's head. "Put the knife down."

"Why should I?" Xavier responded, and his voice was even slimier and more menacing than Jay could ever have imagined.

The problem was, Jay had no good answer to that question.

Xavier had violated his parole and had gotten himself a one-way ticket back to prison, no matter how this scene ended.

So he wouldn't hesitate to kill Sam before he sealed his fate.

"You don't have to do this," was all Jay could come up. "Let Sam go."

At the sound of her name, Sam's eyes widened. She clearly hadn't realized the detectives knew who she was.

Xavier just shook his head slowly, reaffirming Jay's prediction that he wasn't planning to let her go.

"I may not be able to kill Brooke," Xavier began, spitting Brooke's name out like it was something evil. "I may not be able to get my revenge on her. But I can take away the thing she cares about most. I can do that much." He tightened the hold he had on Sam, and she whimpered against him.

Jay knew Xavier was unstable, even before his admission. He knew that Xavier's erratic behavior could cause him to strike at any time. But more than that, he knew that Xavier was a coward.

A coward that spooks easily with a terrifying absence of a conscious was a deadly combination.

And so Jay realized keeping Xavier talking wasn't going to be the answer. He needed to act.

He needed to act before Xavier got the chance to.

And so he leaned on his front foot, slowly inching his way forward, trying to assess his options on the way.

"Take one more step and I'll shoot," Xavier yelled.

Jay stopped in his tracks, knowing he meant it.

But Jay had only used the movement as a distraction tactic, knowing Olinsky was moving up closely behind Xavier. He was only ten feet away now, inching his way slowly forward as quietly as possible.

But then Olinsky moved his boot onto a loose floor board, and the sound that followed was enough to spook Xavier.

All too quickly, a shot rang out.

0000000

Brooke watched from the outside as the team slowly moved towards the house. The moment the team was out of her sight, she quietly opened the door to Voight's truck.

She had heard Hank's instruction to _stay in the truck._ To _keep the doors locked_. She had seen Jay's pleading stare, the one that seemed to say _I know you don't want to listen to Hank, but please, please do._

Jay knew her so well already. He probably knew she was already inching her way towards the house, just hoping for a glimpse inside.

She moved slowly, wishing she hadn't decided to wear heels today. It seemed like _years_ had passed since this morning when she had actually put them on. The heels were her most uncomfortable, the most difficult to walk in. But they made her legs look even longer and more slender than usual, and she had put them on with Jay in mind.

The fog was clearing and she stood behind the oak tree, using it more as protection from Hank Voight than anything else. She peered forward, noticing no activity in the house.

Anyone who passed by might just think Ruzek and Atwater were standing outside, looking for some fresh air. Or in this neighborhood, maybe they were out taking a smoke. They would probably never guess what was _actually_ going on. That there was actually a scared twenty-one year old girl in there, terrified and fighting for her life.

She shivered at that thought.

She just hoped Sam _was_ in there.

And she hoped Sam still had a life left to fight for.

Because the thought of her being somewhere else, of the team pursuing the wrong lead even as Xavier held her hostage...

Or the thought of it already being too late...

Well, those thoughts didn't even bear thinking about.

She shook the thoughts from her head, and continued to stare at the unmoving house. She took in the peeling white paint, the broken green shudders, the unmatching rusty red door. She realized it didn't even look lived in.

Maybe no one was there after all.

But then she heard a terrifying, all too familiar sound.

 _Boom_.

At the sound of the bullet, she ran.

She barely even heard the two bullets that immediately followed.

All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing as she sprinted towards the front door, slamming the thin heels against the ground.

Because there was nothing that was going to keep her from her girl.

And this time, there was nothing that was going to keep her from pulling the fucking trigger.

 **Xoxo**

Please Review!

Also, I realize there weren't a lot of Brookstead moments in this chapter, but I wanted to move to wrap up this storyline! I promise there will be lots more in the coming chapters :) Stay tuned!


	16. Chapter 16

Hi all :) Thanks so much for your patience this week! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Happy weekend :)

 **Chapter 16  
**  
The time ticked by, not measured by the seconds it took for Brooke to reach the rusty red door, but instead measured by the rhythm of her heart beat as it pounded loudly in her ear. Measured by the rate of the ragged breaths she forced into her lungs. Measured by the sound of her heels slamming harshly against the pavement.

She was sure she had never moved that fast.

She was sure that time had never moved that slow.

It took her an eternity to reach the front door, to push it open, to propel her body froward, past the doorframe and through to the inside.

But then, as the scene in front of her assaulted her vision, she slowed.

All of a sudden, she wasn't sure of her next move.

"Brooke," the sound of Sam calling her name made the decision for her. Sam disentangled herself from Jay - who had his hands resting on either shoulder, seemingly trying to gauge if there was anywhere that she had been hurt - and moved towards Brooke, seeking the safety of her arms instead.

Brook stepped forward, meeting her in the middle. "Sam," Brooke breathed, as she held her former foster daughter tightly. "Thank God."

But even as she held Sam in her arms, breathing in her familiar scent, her eyes were looking past her, staring straight into Jay's blue eyes.

He gave her a sad, knowing smile, as tears began to well up in her eyes.

And even among the chaos in the room, even with the sounds of ambulances drawing near, it was just the two of them for a moment.

Her and Sam.

Her and Jay.

By now, the fight seemed to have drained out of her, until it was liquid pooling at her feet, and so she held onto Sam, unable to move from her embrace. She couldn't be sure who was holding up who at this moment in time, but Brooke was one hundred percent sure that if Sam let go, she would collapse to the ground.

And if she did fall, if her body did betray her and she collapsed to the ground, she wasn't sure where she would fall.

Would her body sway to the left?

Would she be able to move her hand slightly and press her fingers against Xavier's neck, checking for a pulse.

Just hoping not to find one.

Or would it sway to the right?

Would she find herself lying only inches away from Hank Voight? The person that had saved her all those years ago, that was saving her again now. Would she press her fingers against Hank Voight's neck, similarly searching for a pulse, but this time hoping, praying, _begging_ , to find one.

"I'm sorry," Brooke heard Sam sob the words against her ear, and at the sound of her cry, the fight seeped back in.

She leaned back, and this time she found Sam's eyes. She searched her face, red and streaked with tears, but otherwise, seemingly intact. "Samantha," she said, and she was surprised at how level her voice was. "This is not your fault. None of this is your fault."

She hugged Sam again, this time brushing her hair with her fingers in a calming, maternal gesture, letting her know she was not alone, and certainly not to blame.

Brooke closed her eyes, and was momentarily relieved when she didn't see anything but darkness and the backs of her eyelids.

She felt a warm hand touch the small of her back, and right away she knew it was Jay. She allowed herself to lean into him slightly, silently letting him know that she appreciated his support. She hoped he knew just how much.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the paramedics enter and she finally moved out of Sam's embrace and rushed towards Hank.

"Hank," she bent down to touch his face, making sure to stay out of the way of the paramedics.

She found herself disappointed when he didn't open his eyes at the sound of her voice, and she realized she had been standing on the other side the room, focusing on Sam and Jay because she had been too afraid of what she would find if she _really_ looked at Hank. If she _really_ looked at his pale face, his set jaw, and his closed eyes.

She had been standing on the other side of the room, thinking that he would just wake up. That she would just wish this nightmare away.

It might have been a fantasy, but she had enjoyed living in it.

She kept her fingers on his cheek and away from his throat, not wanting to feel the presence or absence of his pulse.

Because if this really was just a fantasy, she wanted to live in it a little longer.

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"Jay," Brooke turned to meet Jay's eyes over the center console in his Sierra. She was sitting in the passenger seat, in the black leather she had once felt so uncomfortable, so angry, so _powerless_ in. She still felt angry and powerless, but now it was all she could do not to curl up and stay in here forever. In the warmth of the leather, in the warmth of Jay's arms. "I don't know what happened in there, but I just wanted to say-"

"Brooke," he cut her off, holding her gaze steady and covering her hand with his own. He had longed to reach over and touch her hand during the entire drive over, but he had refrained. Sam needed to be taken to Chicago Med to be checked out, but she had refused to ride in an ambulance. Jay had offered to drive her and Brooke to the hospital, and Brooke's hand had been otherwise occupied. She had been holding onto Sam for dear life. "He's going to be okay."

He had seen the way her eyes had glazed over when she entered the room. Between Xavier dead on the floor, and Hank bleeding out close by, he wasn't sure how she kept it together for Sam.

It wasn't any easy feat for him, and he saw things like this all the time.

When he saw her touch Hank's face so gently, tears streaming down her face as if she was silently praying to God for him to just be okay, he had lost his breath.

He had lost more people in his life than any person should; too many friends to count, his mother, his _best_ friend. It changed a person.

He didn't want that for Brooke.

And so he stood there, and he sent up a prayer, too.

For Hank. For Sam. For Brooke. For all of them.

"He's going to be okay," he repeated. Because he knew when she was holding on to Sam for dear life, her mind had been elsewhere. That, in her own way, she had really been holding on to Hank. "I'll go in and check on him, and I'll keep you updated, okay?" He said, as he touched her cheek gently. "Go be with Sam."

She nodded, pressing her cheek into his hand and letting his warmth consume her.

She leaned in and kissed him then. A light, tender kiss full of as much love as it was passion. "Okay," she said quietly, before unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car.

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By the time she made it into the Emergency Department waiting room at Chicago Med, Sam must have already been in a room, because Brooke didn't see her anywhere. She approached the information desk, hoping someone would give her some information.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Samantha Walker, can you tell me what room she's in please?"

The woman barely looked in her direction before asking, "Are you a family member?"

"Um..." Brooke paused for a moment, unsure of how to respond. This particular woman may not know who she is, or more likely she hasn't bothered to look away from her computer screen, but Brooke wasn't the best at running below the radar. She could lie and say yes, but that rarely turned out well. "Kind of," was all she could manage.

"Kind of doesn't get you a room number," the woman smirked, and Brooke just glared at her.

That got her nowhere, of course, because the person had to be _looking_ at her for the Brooke Davis glare to be effective.

"Ma'am, I completely understand." She decided to try going for nice. "But Samantha Walker doesn't have family in Chicago, I'm it. Can you please make an exception, just this once? I would _really_ appreciate it." She smiled sweetly, another Brooke Davis trademark.

But once again, the woman didn't budge. "Sorry," she said, sounding anything but. "Hospital policy."

She sighed, completely frustrated and unsure of what to do.

"Brooke? What are you doing out here?" Jay came through the glass doors that lead to the center of the Emergency Room, and walked until he was standing beside her.

"They won't tell me where Sam is," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. He could hear raw emotion in her voice, as if it was finally all becoming too much. As if this one small obstacle might finally wreck her completely.

He reached for hand, intertwining her small, perfectly manicured fingers between his large, rough ones. "Come on," he said, pulling her back through the glass doors.

"How did you get back there?" She asked confused. "Wait," she added, suddenly remembering that Jay was supposed to be checking on Hank. "How's Hank?"

"He's going to be okay. He's in surgery, and he's in _really_ good hands, Brooke."

 _How do you know?_ she wanted to ask. But she didn't. Because she trusted him. And because she didn't really want to know the answer.

"How are we supposed to find Sam?" Brooke asked, allowing herself to refocus on the one person she knew _was_ going to be okay today.

He just shifted his head in the direction of the nurse's station and squeezed her hand gently, pulling her along with him.

"Maggie?" Jay called out the name from the side of the nurses station, and Brooke watched as an African-American woman in her mid-thirties in dark blue scrubs turned and approached them.

"I heard about Hank," she said, keeping her voice soft and her eyes on Jay's. "Connor's got this."

"I know," Jay said, nodding slightly, and giving her a small smile of appreciation. "I'm actually looking for a girl who was brought in recently. Thin, brown hair, maybe around 5"5, 21 years old. Her name is Sam."

"Samantha Walker," Brooke interrupted.

Maggie shifted her gaze, not having noticed her standing their before. Her eyes widened, and Brooke knew immediately that she recognized her. _Damn it,_ she thought. _No way is she going to give me this information now._

But then she looked down at the small black tablet in her hand, and said, "She's in room 5," and she pointed across the hallway at a room hidden by a curtain.

"Thanks, Maggie," Jay said.

And then Brooke was moving across the Emergency Room, going to see her girl.

Hand in hand with her man.

At least, she _hoped_ he was.

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"It's really good to see you," Brooke said, placing a gentle hand on Sam's cheek. She was finally able to take Sam in. The redness had calmed, the streaks of tears were finally gone, and Brooke noticed that she looked _great._ Healthy. Fulfilled. Happy.

"It's good to see you, too, Brooke," she replied, smiling wide. "I'm really glad you're going to be living here now."

Jay leaned against the side wall of the room, silently watching the exchange.

"Me too," Brooke replied. "You and Jack are coming to the opening right?" She was trying for lighter conversation. Sam was sitting cross-legged on the hospital bed, fully dressed, as she had refused to put on the hospital gown. Brooke knew Sam didn't want to stay and wait for to see the doctor, so she hoped distracting her would help.

"We wouldn't miss it," she replied, her smile widening even further when she added, "I was going to wear the purple dress. My first Clothes Over Bros original." She paused, "Well, my first that I didn't _steal_ , that is."

That earned her a chuckle _and_ a whack on the arm. "Funny," Brooke smirked. "You sure you don't want to wear something new though?" Brooke asked.

Sam paused for a beat, and then her lips curved into a soft smile. "Victoria said I looked like a Davis in that dress," Sam said wistfully, unsure if Brooke would even remember the conversation they'd had almost 5 years before.

Tears welled in Brooke's eyes as her voice grew heavy with emotion. "Honey, you'll always be a Davis to me."

0000000000000

Twenty minutes later, and they were still waiting.

"I _really_ don't need to be here," Sam was _still_ sitting cross-legged on the hospital bed, fully dressed. She was looking at Brooke, who was _still_ sitting on the edge of her bed. She hadn't moved once since she found Sam, and Sam was _sure_ she was never going to leave her alone again. "I'm fine."

"Sam," Brooke said sternly, "We are getting you checked out. This is _not_ a discussion."

Sam, realizing she wasn't going to get anywhere with Brooke, shifted her gaze to Jay, who had been standing silently and leaning against the wall since Brooke walked in with him over 30 minutes before. "He didn't touch me, I swear."

Jay sighed, and moved off the wall and closer to her. "You still need to get checked out."

She sighed, but seemed to relent at his words.

It was only then that Jay realized his badge still hung around his neck over his dark grey henley. His gun was still holstered against his hip, barely hidden by his unzipped black leather jacket. Sam probably thought he was here in a professional capacity.

She didn't know that that wasn't it at all. That really, he was here because he just wanted to be close to Brooke.

Because he wanted to make everything okay for her, and for Sam.

But also, because her mere presence kept him calm. It made everything okay for _him._

And so, while Hank Voight's life hung in the balance mere hundreds of feet away, he really needed her, too.

Because every time he was alone, he saw the fear that was clear in Sam's face. He saw Xavier holding a knife against her pale neck.

He saw Xavier pull the trigger.

He saw the bullet that was coming for him.

And then he saw his boss jump in front of him, claiming the bullet for himself.

And every time he was alone, he was reminded of the reasons why he never allowed himself to get too attached to anyone.

But then, he saw Brooke Davis's beautiful face, and he realized it was worth it.

All the hurt. All the pain. All the everything.

It was worth it.

 _She_ was worth it.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	17. Chapter 17

Hi all :) I really hope you like this one!

 **Chapter 17**

"Hi, Ms. Walker? My name is Dr. Manning," Brooke turned at the sound of a woman's voice from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She had spent the last thirty minutes peppering Sam with questions about school and life with Jack, and trying to distract Sam from the fact that they were in the Emergency Room.

Or, if she was being honest, she was really trying to distract _herself_ from the fact that they were sitting in a room down the hall from where Hank lay, in surgery, fighting for her life.

And, if she was being _completely_ honest, she could admit she had been uncomfortable since the minute she had walked inside. The only thing that was keeping her even _remotely_ calm was Jay's close proximity to her. His quiet presence seemed to calm even her deepest-seated fears.

But even with Jay standing nearby, she still couldn't help it. She _hated_ hospitals. Especially _city_ hospitals. The hospital Hank had brought her to in New York City had been so cold and unfeeling. The older male doctor who had seen her had been even colder and more rigid than the hospital itself.

But this time, as she turned and took in the doctor in dark maroon scrubs and long white coat that stood in the entrance of the room, she noticed that the young, brown haired doctor with friendly brown eyes and a gentle smile seemed to exude a warm, comforting demeanor.

As Dr. Manning rubbed the antibacterial foam through her fingers, she continued to introduce herself to the pair on the bed. "I'm one of the residents here, and this is my attending-

Before Dr. Manning could finish, a second doctor walked into the room.

But this one, Brooke recognized. "Will?"

His blue eyes brightened and his lips broke into a huge smile. "Well, well. If it isn't Brooke Davis."

She couldn't contain her smile in response to his, allowing herself a moment of much needed respite from the worry in her mind. "They actually let you graduate from medical school?" She asked coyly, even though she actually _knew_ that Will had graduated, and at the top of his class. He had gone on to match into one of the most competitive plastic surgery residencies in the country, and then had become some hot shot surgeon in New York, if she had heard correctly.

"They did in fact," he said, his smile still wide, his voice teasing. "I heard they actually let you _run_ your own company."

She chuckled at that, remembering how long it had actually been since she'd seen him. Then she teased him right back. "I'm not so sure I should be trusting the medical opinion of a guy who once brought a _Keg_ to my first Clothes over Bros party."

God, that had been so long ago. She remembered how nervous she had been, how much she had wanted to impress the high end clientele. She had hoped that show would be her big break, that she would finally find her path into the competitive industry. She remembered how she had painstakingly planned every detail, how she had slaved over the wines and the cheese platters and the elaborate menu for her party.

"I don't know," he said, his voice full of mirth and sarcasm. "I seem to remember you enjoying that keg. Actually, if I'm not mistaken, I also recall you _trusting_ me," he emphasized the word trusting, as if she could use this as evidence that she should trust him now, "To hold your _very short_ dress in place during more than one of your keg stands."

Well _that_ was true.

But, to be fair, she _had_ waited for the high end clientele to leave before flipping herself upside down and drinking straight from the fountain.

She had been celebrating her first successful fashion show. That night had been the real start of clothes over bros. It was a night she would never forget.

She'd been only 19 years old.

While the memories of that amazing night assaulted her mind, the laugh that bubbled from behind her seemed to bring her back to reality. "Brooke Davis, doing keg stands?" Sam asked, incredulously. "I wish I could've seen that."

"Oh, it was quite the sight." Will send, sending Sam a playful wink.

"Okay, okay." Brooke said. She gestured to Sam, but she was really just using her as an excuse. Really, it was Dr. Manning that had her wanting to stop this conversation. She looked uncomfortable and frozen in place, and Brooke wondered for a moment if maybe they were dating. "Can memory lane be closed please?"

 _Yes. Please. Stop._ Jay had _also_ been frozen in the corner, unable to move.

Although, since he was in the corner and out of sight, he was pretty sure no one had noticed the expression that must have been on his face.

He forced the expression away. He forced his breathing to return to normal. He forced himself to open and relax his fists, the ones that had began to tense at his sides.

Jesus. Brooke was a _gorgeous_ and _very_ famous fashion designer. She probably had men _lining_ up to date her on a daily basis. That was an obstacle large enough.

But now, all of a sudden, he had to compete with his brother, too?

He _really_ hoped they had just been friends.

Except, he reasoned, that probably _wasn't_ the case.

Will had _always_ been a ladies man. While Jay had been shy and reserved in his teenage years, Will had been balancing women left and right.

And while, yes, Jay had caught up in that department, Will was _still_ balancing women. God, he was living with one woman, and he _also_ had another woman pining after him.

And at the sight of _that_ woman's frozen face, Jay could tell she seemed less than pleased by this little development, too.

"So you two know each other?" Jay finally managed to steady his breathing, but unfortunately he wasn't able to steady his voice.

Will turned, seemingly noticing Jay for the first time. "Hey, Jay," he said, ignoring the question.

"Hey, Will," Jay said, trying to keep his reply casual. He was _determined_ not to ask the same question again.

At the sound of his voice, Brooke immediately turned her attention to Jay, and raised her eyebrows at him in a gesture that said, _How do you know Will?_

 _God._ She looked so _relaxed_ all of a sudden. Jay had watched her sitting on the bed with Sam, _trying_ to seem relaxed. But he had spent the better part of the week studying Brooke Davis, and he knew she was merely trying.

But now, all of a sudden, at the sight of _his brother_ and after a few moments of banter between the two of them, she seemed _actually_ relaxed.

He couldn't bear to sit in this room anymore. "I'll give you guys some privacy," he said, in lieu of responding to the question that laid in Brooke's raised eyebrow.

If no one was going answer _his_ question, he wasn't about to answer her's.

"Thanks," Sam replied softly, happy to have less people witness this visit. She could tell he wanted to stay, though. And not just because he wanted to make sure she was alright, although she reasoned that was definitely part of it. He had just saved her life after all.

But the more time Sam spent in this room with Jay and Brooke, the more she was getting some _serious_ vibes. Like the _I'll keep my headphones on tonight, just in case_ vibes she had previously teased Brooke about when she lived with her. Except, added to the clear sexual tension, she was getting some serious _relationship_ vibes, too.

Jay was _clearly_ worried about Brooke.

And Brooke had _clearly_ let her guard down around Jay.

That witty banter Sam had just observed between Will and Brooke was Brooke Davis the cheeky, flirty fashion designer. That was a side she felt comfortable showing the world.

But the _vulnerable_ Brooke Davis, the one she had showed Jay in the car, and she was _trying_ to keep at bay here in the Emergency Room, that was reserved just for Brooke's inner circle.

And she _never_ let people into that inner circle.

Sam had only met Brooke _after_ the attack, but from what she had learned from Haley and Peyton, and what she had observed herself, Sam was pretty sure that behavior had started _long_ before that.

After Jay quietly left the room, Sam finally addressed both of the doctors standing in the room. "You can call me Sam."

"Okay, Sam," he said with a soft smile. "I'm Dr. Halstead, but you can call me Will."

 _Halstead?_ Brooke thought, as she momentarily stopped listening to the conversation that was going on in the room.

 _As in, Jay Halstead?_

 _Shit._

She hoped he hadn't gotten the wrong idea.

No wonder he had barely looked at her as he practically _ran_ from the room.

She was going to need to talk to him.

But then she took a deep breath, and focused back in on Sam, knowing that _that_ conversation was just going to have to wait.

0000000000000

"You're good to go home," Dr. Manning said, as she came back in carrying the discharge paperwork for Sam to sign.

"Great," Sam sighed, completely relieved and beyond ready to go home. She quickly signed the three forms that had been placed in front of her, and she looked back up at the doctor. "Thank you, Dr. Manning."

"Anytime, sweetie," she replied, and then she quietly exited the room.

Brooke and Sam walked out of the hospital room a moment later, moving back into the main, busy hallway of the Emergency Department.

They found a pacing Jay nearby, talking into his cell phone. "Okay, thank you for the update." He paused, presumably listening to the person on the other end. But then, he noticed Sam and Brooke approaching, paperwork in hand, and said, "Actually, I think I'm almost done here. I'll be back there soon. Does anyone need coffee?" He smiled at Sam and Brooke as they approached, and then hung up the phone.

"That was Antonio," Jay began. But then he realized that Brooke had never actually met Antonio, and so he explained, "He's my old partner. He's upstairs in the surgical waiting room, he called to give me an update on-"

"How's he doing?" Brooke didn't let him finish, already knowing what he was going to say.

Jay gave her a soft smile and laid his hand on her shoulder, his earlier anxiety about her and his brother forgotten for the moment. "He's good," he said, nodding. "He's finished with the surgery, and he's stable. They're just extubating him and moving him to PACU, but then he should be in a room in an hour. And then we can go in and see him."

Brooke let the deep breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding, and then, she let out the tears, too.

Loud, audible sobs wracked her body as she finally gave into the stress of the day.

The day that had started with a _terrible_ night sleep because she hadn't been in Jay's arms.

The day that had continued with a visit from her perpetually disappointed, condescending mother.

The day that had continued with the news that Sam had been kidnapped.

The day that had gone on to see Xavier Daniel's familiar face.

The day that had continued still, with Hank Voight getting shot.

She had thought he was going to bleed out right in front of her.

She had thought she was never going to see him again.

That she wasn't going to get a chance to thank him for everything.

She finally let it all out as Jay wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and running a calming hand from her hair to her back, over and over, up and down, until she began to calm.

She wasn't sure how long he held her, taking on the entire weight of her body as she cried against him, but as she stood in his muscular, fiercely protective arms, she realized that as long as he held her, it would never be long enough.

000000000000

"Sam," Brooke was standing in the surgical waiting room, waiting for news that she could go back and see Hank. She had been sitting there for about a half an hour, in the uncomfortable blue plastic chair between Jay and Sam. "Are you sure you don't want to stay with me tonight?"

"Brooke, I'm sure," she said softly, "I _really_ want to go home and see Jack." Sam had finally borrowed Brooke's phone and called Jack's cell, and learned that a Sergeant Platt had released him and driven him home before she, herself, drove to the hospital. Jack had assumed Sam would be home, otherwise he would've continued on to the hospital with her.

"I can take her," Ruzek offered, as he stood and rubbed his tense neck and shoulders. He had been sitting in this room for the better part of five hours, and now that he knew his boss was stable, he could use the break.

"Thank you," Sam replied, smiling.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Brooke asked.

"That's okay," Sam replied, moving to give Brooke a tight hug. "Call me when you have an update on Sergeant Voight, okay?"

"I will," she whispered back appreciatively. As much as she had meant it when she offered, she hadn't really _wanted_ to leave the hospital. Now that she knew Sam was okay, and would be in good hands with Ruzek and Jack, she _really_ wanted to focus on Hank.

She _needed_ to see him.

When Sam finally pulled away and began to walk towards the door, Brooke called out, "Text me when you get home, please," just like she had done hundreds of times before.

"Okay, _mom._ "

Sam may have said the word sarcastically, but her eyes told a different story.

 _Thank you,_ she mouthed, and then she gave her a soft smile and turned to go.

0000000000000

It was ten minutes later when it finally dawned on Jay that Xavier Daniels was dead.

Of course, he _knew_ Xavier was dead. He had watched Olinsky shoot him.

But he hadn't actually _realized_ the implications of that.

Brooke was finally safe. He wouldn't be bothering her again.

Jay felt like a terrible person, because that thought to disappointed him more than it should.

It's just that, that meant she wouldn't be at the district anymore.

That meant she wouldn't need him to stand watch at her store.

And that meant could sleep at home.

She was going to go back to her _normal_ life. Except, Brooke Davis's life was _anything_ but normal.

And he was pretty sure he wasn't going to fit in.

She would probably go off and date another NBA player, or maybe a Blackhawks player.

God, that would kill him. He _loved_ the Blackhawks.

But, he reasoned, a Blackhawks player wouldn't be as bad as if she dated his fucking brother.

No. Nothing would be worse than that.

000000000

"He did great," Dr. Rhodes explained to the group standing in the surgical waiting room. "But since he's still in the ICU, you can only go in two at a time."

"Thanks, Doc," Olinsky said, patting Dr. Rhodes on the back and moving towards the door. Then he turned back to look at Brooke, "Do you want to come with me?"

 _Yes._ "Um.." she paused, looking around the room at all the other people that had been standing in this room and waiting anxiously for Hank to wake up. "No, that's okay. You all should go first."

And so she waited.

She waited for Olinsky to go in with Sergeant Platt.

She waited for Antonio to go in with Atwater.

She waited for Burgess to go in with Ruzek.

And then, about an hour later, she finally moved towards the doorway with Jay.

She didn't mind waiting, though.

Since she was last, no one could rush her out. She could stay as long as it took for Hank to open his eyes, and smile at her one more time.

000000000000

"Hey, kid," Brooke was sitting on a chair, which was pulled up next to Hank's bed. She had been in the room over an hour, and her eyes had probably been closed for some time, but at the sound of his voice, she jumped up in her seat.

"Hank!" She croaked out the word, her voice thick with sleep.

"Boss, you're awake," Jay said from the seat next to her, and Brooke was surprised at the emotion that was present in his voice.

Hank looked at the pair, and then his eyes drifted to the window, and he took in the stars and moon that had arisen in the sky. "How long have I been out?"

"Only a few hours," Jay replied, even though it had _felt_ like days.

Hank shifted his focus back on Brooke, and he immediately noticed the dark circles under her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. "Kid, I'm okay. You should go home."

"What? No. I'm good here," she rushed the words out, as she sat up straighter in her hair and tried to make herself look _less_ tired. She couldn't leave. She _wouldn't_ leave him alone in this hospital room.

Not after he hadn't left her.

He hadn't left her side a single minute of that night. And she had been waiting her entire life to be able to pay it forward. To _show_ him, rather than tell him, how much that night meant to her.

How much it had shaped the rest of her life.

"Halstead," he barked the order out, as if he was still in the bullpen. "Take Brooke home." He paused when he noticed the young detective's nervous stare. "That's an order."

"Sir," he sighed, knowing Brooke wouldn't budge if she didn't want to. He had only known her a few days, but he already knew she was as bullheaded as Voight. Maybe even more.

Hank shifted his gaze away from Halstead, knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere with him. "Brooke, go home. Get some sleep. Jay will pick you up in the morning and bring you right back here, okay?"

His eyes softened as he looked at her and she smiled.

"Are you sure?" She whispered, not wanting to give in too easily, but at the same time _craving_ a good night's sleep.

"I'm sure, kiddo," he replied, and then he placed a hand over hers and said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," she finally conceded.

After she said her goodbyes, she walked out of the room with Jay and down the long hospital corridor towards the elevator.

"Hold on a sec," Jay said, turning away from her. "I forgot my jacket."

Jay turned back to retrieve the jacket he had left on his chair purposefully. But when he walked back into the room, he saw that Voight had already fallen back to sleep.

 _I'll just have to thank him another time,_ he thought. Except, how do you thank someone for stepping in front of a bullet for you? For saving your life?

Maybe it was better he had a little more time to find the words, he thought, as he retrieved his jacket, and once again, slipped out the door.

00000000000

When Jay met up with Brooke again, she was looking down at her phone. "Did Sam get home okay?" Jay asked.

"Yeah," she said, smiling and slipping her phone back into her pocket. "She's with Jack." She paused, and then added, "She's okay."

He wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him, or herself. He gave her a soft smile, and laid a hand gently on her shoulder, hoping it would help either way.

"Come on," Jay said, "I'll drive you home."

 _Home,_ she thought.

For some reason, home was _not_ where she wanted to go right now.

She usually _loved_ being home. And she had picked the most beautiful apartment in Chicago for that very reason. She had fallen in love with it the moment she had stepped inside, the large windows giving her a glimpse of the bustling city, while the crown moldings and soft colors had also given her that homey feel.

And because it was a penthouse apartment, there were _several_ fireplaces, the largest one being in her bedroom.

Falling asleep in front of the fireplace was her favorite thing.

Well, it _had_ been her favorite thing.

Before she had fallen asleep in Jay's arms.

"You don't have to, though." _Please don't._

 _Thank God._ "Okay."

But then, he wanted to make sure he was reading the situation correctly. That she _wasn't_ just saying that she could, in fact, get herself home. But he wasn't sure _how._

"I can order food," he said, opting for something casual. "Italian?"

"Italian sounds perfect," she said.

Then she slipped her hand into his, and they walked out just as they had walked into the Emergency Department hours before.

Hand in hand. Together.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	18. Chapter 18

This chapter is rated M towards the end!

 **Chapter 18**

Brooke and Jay walked to the car hand in hand in a comfortable silence, and when Jay let go of her hand to open the door for her, she immediately missed his warmth. The comfortable silence continued as Jay had pulled the Sierra out of the parking lot and gracefully onto the main road.

But it continued for less than a mile.

There was something about sitting a dark car, on a dark street, where she could stare straight ahead and avoid Jay's blue eyes, that allowed Brooke to finally blurt out the words she had been waiting for say four hours. "I never dated your brother."

She watched Jay's shoulder sag with relief, but she noticed how he immediately tried to cover his reaction.

 _She_ didn't feel all that relieved though. She actually didn't mind bringing up Will. Will had just been a friend, an acquaintance really. She had seen him at some parties, and he had at one time dated her roommate. Actually, now that she thought about it, she was pretty sure he had dated _both_ of her roommates.

But that was either here nor there. She wasn't worried about Will.

It was the part that came after it.

"I...um... I do have a pretty..." she paused, trying to think of her next word. _Extensive. Regrettable._ She settled on, " _Public_ dating history." Because _that_ was the real problem. She had slept around in high school, and while she wasn't _nearly_ as bad after graduating, she still had had her share of flings.

And in her time in New York, she had _appeared_ with even more men. And while sometimes it started off for the publicity, sometimes it ended differently.

Sometimes it was just nice to have a warm body to sleep next to in bed.

Well, _that,_ and she was a pretty big fan of sex.

They didn't call it _Brooking_ yourself for nothing.

But she had only been in love once. She had been a teenager, and it had completely ruined her.

"I don't believe everything I read," Jay answered, his voice _and_ his mood surprisingly calm. He didn't _care_ about her dating history. She hadn't dated his brother. The knot that had been tight in his stomach had loosened at that proclamation.

And then there was the added fact that she was coming home with _him_ tonight.

Brooke turned towards him at that, raising her eyebrow and sending a smirk in his direction. "Well, what have you read?"

 _Shit._ He hadn't meant to reveal that he'd read _anything._

She seemed to notice him freeze, because after a moment, laughter bubbled out of her.

As the beautiful sound filled the car, the last of the knot came completely undone. He reached over and grabbed her hand, intertwining her fingers in his own, and smiled the rest of the way home.

0000000000000000

"Can I get you another glass of wine?" Jay strode out from the kitchen, the half empty bottle of red wine in his hand. They had just finished their meal, and he had gathered the take out containers to throw them out in the kitchen, leaving Brooke barefoot and cross-legged on his leather couch.

"Sounds good," she replied, holding out her nearly empty glass. The conversation had continued over dinner, but it had been light. She hadn't addressed what she had meant by _public_ dating history, and Jay hadn't asked. Instead, they talked about work and her plans for the upcoming opening of her store.

She could tell he had wanted to, though. She could tell he had wanted to ask her _a lot_ of things.

He settled in next to her, filling up his glass of wine as she took a tentative sip of her own.

Without a fork and knife, without food to distract them, she suddenly became nervous.

"Okay," Jay said finally, "Can I confess something?"

She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, but then said, "Sure?"

Jay had been nervous in the car. He'd been even more nervous as the ascended the stairs to his apartment building, and more nervous still as he slipped the key into the lock and opened his apartment door.

But then as he moved into his apartment, and the living room couch came into view, the memories of the other night slowly flowed back to him.

Brooke had fell asleep in _his_ lap, in _his_ arms. She had felt safe enough to let her guard down, and she had done it again and again today.

Maybe all those other men she had dated didn't matter. Maybe _he_ was just what she wanted.

Maybe he was just what she _needed_.

He clung to that notion as he continued. "I googled your dating history."

She seemed mildly surprised, which he had expected. But then he watched as another emotion floated across her face, and he realized she was also _embarrassed._

He continued speaking, looking to lighten the mood slightly. "You know, I just wanted to know what I was up against."

It worked. The crinkle in her eyebrow smoothed out as her lips slowly turned into a smirk. "And?" She said, her voice teasing.

"And I figure Nathan Scott's got nothing on me."

He wasn't sure why he picked that particular NBA player in particular. Maybe because he had seen pictures of them together in New York, and then a few more recently, but then upon further investigation, it seemed that Nathan was married and had been for quite some time.

So it was a pretty safe bet that she hadn't _actually_ dated him in a while.

But unfortunately, the sound of Nathan Scott's name seemed to bring the embarassed expression right back to Brooke's face.

He raised an eyebrow, signaling for her to explain.

"Okay," she sighed. "Can I confess something?"

"Sure?" He replied, giving her the exact same answer she had previously supplied to him.

"Nathan Scott is one of my oldest and best friends, and he's _married_ to one of my best friends, too," she explained.

"Okay?" He tilted his head to the side, letting her know that did nothing to explain the uncomfortable look that had flitted across her face.

She took a deep breath, trying to decide what to say. For some reason she couldnt _actually_ explain, she really wanted to tellJay about her history with Nathan. About her history with Lucas. About her history with Hank. About her mother. About all of it.

Actually, she _knew_ the reason.

It was because when she had finally found the courage to reveal her feelings and her fears about Xavier Daniels and that night, she had felt closer to him than she had ever felt to anyone.

And she _really_ wanted to feel that again.

"I was _really_ slutty in high school." As she spoke though, she looked down at her hands. She may had found the courage to speak the words, but she _certainly_ hadn't found the courage to watch him react to them. "I essentially lived alone in a huge house from the time I turned 13. I had my parent's money, and well, their house, but I didn't have their attention." She paused, twisting her fingers around the stem of her wine glass. "And so, I looked for attention... elsewhere."

It was the best way she could think to describe her childhood.

Looking for attention, looking for acceptance, looking for love.

Always _looking_ for something.

"Nathan was dating my best friend. Not the one he's married to now, that's Haley. But he was dating my _other_ best friend, Peyton." She looked up at him as she explained this, the logistics being easier to explain than the _feelings_ that they stirred. "They were always off and on, and one night they were off and Nathan and I hooked up." She took a sip of her wine glass, and looked down for this last part, knowing that if she was telling this story, she may as well reveal the whole truth. "We kind of taped it," she said, "Not my proudest moment."

Jay wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but that _really_ wasn't it.

But he also found himself not caring much about the sex, or the videotaping of said sex. He found himself caring about the rest of it.

The looking for attention elsewhere.

He had just seen her mother in action this morning, had seen her berate and condescend to Brooke. He wanted to know more about _that._

"That must have been hard," he said, moving his hand to her cheek. "Living alone like that, in a big house."

She immediately looked up and found his eyes and she was completely shocked by what she saw. She found that they were full of compassion, and completely devoid of judgment. "It was," she whispered. And then for some reason, she contined. "I didn't have the easiest childhood, and it didn't get much easier from there."

He kept his hand in place on her cheek, as he watched her eyes fill with unshed tears. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

 _Yes._ "I'm not sure it's all that interesting," she said, instead, pulling her face away from his hand and taking a slow sip on wine while the tears rolled back in.

"Okay," he said softly, not wanting to push the subject.

But the way his warm eyes continued to hold her own, it seemed to drag the information right out of her. "I was a mess. I was captain of the cheerleading team, and I was popular, but I was a mess. But then, my junior year of high school, I started dating this boy." She paused for a second, letting the memories wash over her. "He's actually Nathan Scott's brother, Lucas."

Jay recognized the name as the two-timed best selling author from the _who dated who_ website, but he didn't say anything. He just placed a gentle hand on her knee, and continued to listen.

"I've only ever been in love once," she whispered. But then her cheeks reddenned with embarrassment, and she immediately regretted speaking the words out loud.

 _God._ What 28 year old woman had only been in love once?

And she had been barely 17 years old. It had been over ten years, and she had never again allowed herself to even get close. She realized that as experienced as she may be, she wasn't all that experienced with _real_ adult relationships.

She forced herself to continue. "He broke my heart," she said. "He cheated on me with Peyton." She took another sip of her wine, noticing that the glass was nearly empty. Jay seemed to notice too, and he reached for the bottle as she continued.

"But actually, that's when I started my clothing line. That's where Clothes over Bros comes from," she smiled, watching as he poured the dark purple liquid into her glass. "I guess I found a way to turn my heartbreak into creativity. I poured every ounce of hurt I had into it, and I've been doing it ever since."

 _And she's been doing it ever since_ , he realized.

Lucas. Her mother. Xavier. And whatever else she had gone through in her life, she'd been guarding her heart and instead focusing her heartbreak and her sadness into this unbeliavable talent.

When he didn't say anything right away, she decided to lighten the mood with a joke. "And with everything that happened today, I'm thinking my fall line is going to be _particularly_ spectacular."

 _How do you know Voight?_

The question was on the tip of his tongue, he was _dying_ to know. But he forced himself to hold back, knowing she had revealed quite a lot for one night. That he had revealed essentially nothing.

"I can't wait to see it," he said, smiling and squeezing her knee softly, as he took a sip of his own, mostly forgotten, red wine.

After a comfortable silence, he decided to share something, too. He hadn't been this comfortable around someone in as long as he could remember, and as he watched her finish her off her third glass of wine, he realized he didn't want the night to end.

"I've only been in love once, too," he said.

"Really?" She wasn't sure why that surprised her so much, but it did.

"Really," he nodded. "And, believe it or not, it was _also_ in high school." He and Allie had dated for all of high school, breaking up only when he left for the Rangers. But even though the relationship had been long, and intense in the way only young, reckless love could be, it was different than anything he could ever want now.

It had been _before._ It had been in a time where he hadn't known any better. When he thought everything just fell right into place, you worked and married your high school sweetheart and everything was happy, and carefree, and _easy._

That had been before he had gone to war. Before his mother had died. Before he had realized there was _a lot_ more to a relationship than happy, carefree, and easy. That he needed depth, and trust, and understanding, and _love._

And now, he was living in the _after_.

"And you never dated after high school?" Brooke asked, trying to bring him back from wherever he just went.

"I _dated_ plenty... Not _publicly_ like you, though," he joked, a smirk settling on his lips.

"Shut up." She lightly smacked his knee, but couldn't help the smile that widened, revealing dimples deep in her cheeks.

He just chuckled lightly, finding enough courage in her smile to allow him to continue. "I just never let anything get serious."

"Did she break your heart?" She wondered, knowing _that_ is what had stopped her from getting serious again.

"No," he said, a sad smile on his lips. "We're actually still friends."

 _You are?_ She wanted to ask him, wanted to reveal that she, too, was friends with the one person she had loved, the one person she had let break her heart.

But she didn't want to interrupt wherever this story was going. She wanted to learn the reason behind his sad smile. So she stayed quiet, allowing her soft hazel eyes to stay settled on his blue ones.

"The Rangers," he whispered, knowing he didn't need to add anymore. That she would understand exactly what he meant.

 _That_ is what had broken his heart.

Or that's at least what started it. "And then, my mom died."

"Oh my god, Jay," Brooke immediately reached out and grabbed his hand into her own, scooting her body closer to his so that her knees were resting against his thighs. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," he whispered. He took another sip of his wine, because this time it was _his_ turn for a little liquid courage. "My dad never really recovered." His dad may have been a son of a bitch to him, but he had loved Jay's mother fiercely, with everything he had. "And I guess I looked at my dad, and I looked at the faces of every widow at every funeral of every friend I had that died over there," he shook his head, reveling in the warmth of Brooke's hand sliding up and down his thigh. "And I just decided it wasn't worth it."

 _Until you._

He hadn't needed to add that last part either.

But once again, she understood exactly what she meant.

She leaned into him then, finally allowing herself to kiss him, to melt into him, to lose herself in him.

He leaned forward and kissed her back, slowly at first, and then more urgently.

She shifted her body slightly, and suddenly she was straddling him, panting against him on the leather couch.

As he moved his hands down to reach her waist, his hands accidentally brushed against her breasts, and when he heard the moan escape her lips, he went from enjoying her to devouring her.

His hands found her bottom, and he held her against him as he stood. She tightened the legs that were already around him, pressing her body against him as he carried her into his bedroom.

As he moved, she pressed open mouth kisses from his jaw, down his neck, to the open space above his collar bone. By the time he reached his bed, she was already tearing at his shirt, _needing_ to touch his skin.

But then he laid her down on his bed, and when he looked down at her, she lost her breath.

Never in her life had anyone looked at her like that.

His eyes were bright with arousal, and his lips were red and flushed from her kisses.

But his expression was something wholy different.

It was tender, and vulnerable, and full of... something resembling _love._

When he bent over her, she kissed him once again. She wasn't sure how long she stayed pressed against him, completely clothed, lost in his lips, but when he pulled his lips and then his body away, she was disappointed. She realized for the _second_ time that day, that if he stayed pressed against her forever, it wouldn't be long enough.

But he only broke contact to peel off his shirt and toss it away, and at the sight of his bare arms and chest, she forgot to be disappointed.

 _Jesus Christ, he is sexy._

They both undressed each other quickly then, both frantic in their need to feel each others skin. Her roaming fingers found his arms, his shoulders, his chest. Her touch ignited him and when he looked down and saw her chest heaving against her black lace bra, he almost lost it right there.

He wanted her, he _needed_ to take her right there.

He had known it from the moment he had laid eyes on her, and it no less true now. She really was the hottest fucking girl he'd ever seen.

He linked his fingers with hers, holding them so that she couldn't tear down his defenses with her capable hands. He kissed his way down her body, slowly unbuckling and removing her tight black plants.

She arched in response, biting back another moan. He swept his tongue over her breasts even as his fingers found her, hot and wet and waiting for him. Slowly, he pressed kisses down her flat stomach until he lowered his head and pressed his lips to her inner thigh.

She buckled underneath him as he owned her body. Her limbs began to quiver as an orgasm ripped through her, and all she could do was breath out his name.

His lips found hers as he wriggled out of his own pants. Hard and fast, he finally entered her.

Brooke felt his lips on hers, she felt his erection fill her, and she felt the world spin around her. She kissed him back mercilessly, pressing against him, clutching his shoulders, feeling his muscles hard and tense. "Oh my god, Jay," she breathed his name, once again against his lips, as if it was the only word in her vocabulary.

Her lips found his once more and she writhed underneath him, pressing her hips frantically against him as he rocked over and over, until finally she came again, this time in great shuddering spasms, crying out his name in her ecstasy. The sound of his name escaping her lips caused him to let go, and they reached their orgasm together in the end.

And then, he knew. As he wrapped his arms around her, matching her heavy breathing with his own, he knew.

The heartbreak, the fear, the hurt, the sadness. Every awful thing that had lead them to this moment, and every terrible thing that may come after it.

He was going to give her his heart.

Because this time, it was worth it.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review!**

Hi all :) I think I will probably wrap this story up soon, I only have a couple chapters/ideas left. I'm happy to hear any suggestions though :)

Have a great day!


	19. Chapter 19

Hi all :) Sorry it has been so long since I've updated! I've been crazy busy. I know this chapter is shorter than my usual, but I wanted to post something this weekend :) I hope you enjoy it!

Also, I added a rant at the bottom of this page. If you haven't seen the last episode of Med, don't read it :)

 **Chapter 19**

"Mmmm," Brooke drifted lazily into consciousness as she felt Jay lightly trailing her fingers along her back. Her body was wrapped against his, her head still tucked between his shoulder and his neck, her face pressed into the crook above his collarbone.

She lifted her head slightly and when she finally opened her eyes, the room was still dark. The silver moon was blocked behind dark clouds and not providing any additional light, and so it took her eyes several moments to adjust to the darkness.

She didn't bother asking what time it was, not actually caring. Instead, she leaned down and pressed her lips lazily against Jay's.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi," he whispered back, and then he slowly let his lips spread into a grin.

He couldn't _believe_ this was actually happening, that Brooke Davis had fallen asleep in his arms. _Again._

He hadn't actually meant to wake her. He had woken a few minutes before, and had been watching her sleep, marveling at how completely relaxed her face was in slumber. Looking at her like that, it was hard to believe she had ever seen a troubled moment.

As he studied her face, his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. They just _needed_ to feel her warm skin, to memorize the curve of her spine, and they began to slowly slide up and down her back.

But now that he _had_ woken her, he also wasn't about to squander an opportunity. He kissed her slowly, allowing his tongue to sleep across the insides of her mouth, reveling in the flavor that was quickly becoming his favorite.

His fingers stopped trailing rhythmic patterns, and instead began to descend slowly until they found her hips. He gently shifted her body until she was resting squarely on top of his.

He pulled his lips away from hers for a moment, wanting instead to look into her hazel eyes at the precise moment that he entered her.

Her breath caught and her eyes glazed as he ever so slowly shifted forward, until her warmth was wrapped around him completely.

When he finally kissed her again, something uncurled inside her. Something that far surpassed any other feeling she had ever had for anyone, and she was momentarily shocked by the intensity of it all.

It excited her and _terrified_ her simultaneously, but as Jay began to run his tongue across her collarbone and suck softly at her neck, she decided to just melt into it. To let the feelings take over her.

She found his lips again, as she gave every part over to him. Her mind, her body, her soul.

They were his for the taking.

000000000000

"We should probably set an alarm," Jay was the first to speak after their breathing had finally evened out, and they once again, laid tangled in each other's arms. The thin beige sheet was the only thing covering them, the blanket having been kicked unceremoniously onto the floor. "I don't know what time it is, but I have a feeling neither of us will wake up on our own."

Brooke lifted her head and smirked at Jay, "I think I prefer being woken up like _that,_ to an alarm."

 _Me too._ "I'll keep that in mind," he teased, as he continued to stroke her bare thigh, which was currently laying over his body.

"But you're right," she said, lifting herself up and scooting towards the edge of the bed to retrieve her iPhone. "We should set an alarm. I want to go see Hank before I go to the store."

"I'll come with you," Jay said, as he watched her.

He hadn't expected Brooke to be modest and shove the sheet to cover herself as she moved, but for some reason, the sight of her sitting up, completely naked and exposed in his bed as she typed into her phone, surprised him.

He wasn't sure if it was the casualness of the gesture, the complete ease with which she moved in his bed.

It was as if she seemed just as comfortable with him as he felt with her.

In fact, he felt so comfortable with her that he didn't even hesitate to add, "I want to thank him for saving my life."

Brooke had been looking down at her phone, setting _several_ alarms, but at his words, she immediately looked up.

He watched as confusion washed over her face, but she seemed to stifle the question that she clearly wanted to ask.

 _Okay,_ he thought, as he watched her open and then close her mouth again. _Maybe she isn't as comfortable with me as I thought._

"Xavier's gun was aimed for me," Jay continued, still wanting to tell her everything. "Voight jumped in and shoved me out of the way."

He watched her process the information, and then a slow smile formed on her lips. "That sounds like Hank," she whispered, into the darkness of the room. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak, but he didn't. He couldn't.

Because while, yes, he knew that sounded like Voight, he wanted to know how _she_ knew that.

She was still sitting up, without the cover of the sheet, and so he could see the goosebumps that erupted over her skin before she spoke the next words. "He saved my life, too."

 _That_ was what she had wanted to say before. _That_ was what she had stifled. And not because she wasn't comfortable enough to say it, but because she didn't want to shift the focus away from what Jay had to say.

Because when she had finally told Jay everything about Xavier, about her mother, about her childhood, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. The way he listened to intently, cared so deeply, he had been exactly what she needed in that moment. And now, she wanted to be that for him, too.

But he had waited quietly, and she realized that he wanted _her_ to speak. And so she did.

"I started Clothes over Bros in my apartment with Haley in high school, but after high school, I moved to New York to try to really make it as a fashion designer." She remembered how scared she had been when she stepped off that plane. She had gone from being excited to feeling so completely _alone._ "My parents had lost their money by then, so I moved into this _tiny_ apartment with three other girls." In spite of herself, she smiled as she remembered her early days in Manhattan. She had struggled, sure, but it had been a simpler time.

"Two of them were models," she explained, keeping her voice light. "And the other was trying to make it as an actress."

Jay couldn't help the smirk that graced his face. "I bet you four had the best pillow fights," he said.

A laugh bubbled out of her, and it went a long way to ease the tension in her shoulders and stomach. "How do you do that?" She asked, her voice suddenly serious.

"Do what?" He asked, sitting up and his body closer to hers.

"Know exactly what to say," she said, shaking her head, and resting her hand on his thigh as he inched closer.

He just stared at her, completely taken aback by her candor, and then slightly nervous, because this time he _didn't_ know what to say.

So instead, he grabbed the pillow he had just been lying on, and lightly smacked it against her body. "It's a gift," he finally replied, his voice full of mirth.

She just shook her head as she grabbed the pillow from him, still laughing.

As the laughter died, she hugged the pillow against her body, steeling herself for the rest of the story. "Do you want to hear the rest of the story, or not?" She said, shaking her head, her voice teasing and slightly exasperated.

"Only if you want to tell me," he replied, his tone now growing serious. He had only made that joke because he wanted to give her an out, in case she had felt like he cornered her into this story by revealing his own.

"I do," she said, surprised at how much she really did.

She had never told anyone this story. It had been at a time in her life where she felt so distant from her friends from Tree Hill, but at the same time, she didn't have friends in New York that she trusted the way she had trusted them.

And it wasn't as though she had parents to confide in.

So in the end, she had kept the story to herself. Until now.

"The four of us went to a party one night at a bar," as she began speaking, she realized she was glad to have the pillow covering her naked body. She was about to tell Jay something she had shoved far, far down, and revealing that was about as _naked_ as she could be all at once. "But we got separated early on in the night."

"There was a photographer there," she continued, keeping her voice even, almost reporter-like, as she laid out the initial facts. "He had photographed _all_ of the top designs, had been featured in every magazine," she remembered how she had been completely in awe of him. How she had been _completely_ naive.

"He said he wanted to see some of my designs," she paused for a moment, trying to collect herself, her even voice now gone. As she did, Jay reached over and pressed a warm hand against her knee, giving her the strength to continue.

"But we had to go into the back, where there was more light." _And privacy_.

Jay wanted to shudder, his line of work making him a little _too_ aware of where this story was going. But he held back, trying instead to make Brooke feel as comfortable as possible.

"At some point he must've slipped something into my drink."

 _And there it is._ He couldn't help the shudder this time, it rocked his body involuntarily as a deep chill crept up his spine.

"I barely remember what happened after that, it all happened so fast," she choked out the words, as bits and pieces of memories flashed in front of her eyes.

She remembered the photograhper's sweaty hand as it slowly brushed against her leg, the way it had seemed to grow rough as he tried to shove further and further up her thigh.

She remembered the blue leather couch, the way it stuck to her bare skin as she struggled against him.

She remembered how she had at first succeeded, landing a few good punches against his chest and face. But then at a certain point, her limbs began to feel heavy and weak, and her vision began to blur.

She remembered the door opening suddenly, and she remembered Hank Voight barging through, his gun lifted in her direction. He remembered the way he had immediately tucked his gun into the holster and pulled the photographer off of Brooke, throwing him against the wall as if he was completely weightles.

"The bar had been a part of a large drug smuggling ring, and Hank showed up."

She had been so damn lucky that he had been the one to walk through steel door. "He pulled the guy off of me," she said.

Brooke met Jay's gaze, and immediately saw the question lingering in his eyes. "He showed up in time," she whispered, and she watched his shoulders slump in relief.

But there was more. "But the drug smugglers had been using young models to deal the drugs." _That's_ how she had gotten separated from her friends that night. It hadn't been a coincidence, at all. Instead, they had been busy with other things. "My three roommates were arrested, and the police thought I was involved, too."

She shook her head, disgusted at the betrayel of the girls she had thought of as friends. She had been naive back then, still seeing the world as bright and full of possibilities, despite her childhood and the abundant evidence to the contrary.

"No one believed me," she said, her voice so quiet it was barely audible above the sound of the ceiling fan blowing over top of them. "Not the other detectives. Not his Sergeant. Not the doctor. No one."

"But Detective Voight did," she said, using the first name she had known him by. "He fought for me." He hadn't wavered once, he had believed her through it all. "And then when the case was over, he stayed with me. He stayed with me in the hospital until the drugs were out of my system and I was cleared to go home." It had been a long night, but he hadn't left her side.

"Then he took me to a diner, bought be coffee and breakfast, while I told him everything. And then," she shook her head, still completely bewildered by his generosity and kindness. "He found me a place to live."

She smiled at the memories, the _good_ part of her story. "He was only there for a few days, the case having been a part of something that started in Chicago, but I lived with a friend of his wife's and he and Camille both checked in on me often. Always making sure I was okay."

"Wow," Jay said, finally. He shook his head, momentarily stunned. "Wow," he said, again.

Every moment he spent with Brooke, every time she revealed something new to him, every time she shed more light on her life, he realized how much he had misjudged her.

What is it had said? That she was prissy and judgmental and materialistic and shallow, and just plain _irritating_. God, he had thought her life was so easy just because she was a celebrity.

He thought she was exempt from hardship, that she immune from difficulty, safe from the pain that life so often passed _his_ way.

But he could not had been more wrong.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you," he whispered, moving his body until both of his arms were wrapped around her _and_ her pillow. "I'm glad Voight was there." _So glad._

The words felt small, _too small_ , in light of everything, but he hoped the expression on his face and the way he was holding her tight was enough to show her everything he couldn't put into words.

It was. "Me too," she said. "And I'm glad he was there again, today," she turned to face him, and he loosened his arms from were they were, still wrapped tightly around her.

"I'm glad he saved you, too," she whispered, realizing that she was more indebted to Hank Voight today than ever before.

Because for some reason, even though she had only known Jay less than a week, she was _pretty_ _sure_ she wasn't going to be able to live without him.

She was _pretty_ _sure_ that losing him would have left an irreparable hole in her heart, in her life, and in her future.

But now, thanks to Hank Voight, she wouldn't have to.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review!**

Next chapter is going to skip a few days, and we're going to fast forward to Brooke's opening :)

Okay, now for my rant on this Jay and Natalie NONSENSE. Jay is supposed to be taking a break from Erin because he needs to work on himself, but honestly he seems FINE to me. At least in the Med episodes he's been in recently. And he's not supposed to be SEEING OTHER PEOPLE! I have two theories, both of which are completely wishful thinking, and knowing how much the PD writers seem to HATE us, are probably both wrong. The first theory is that Med is struggling for viewers, and they're hoping to bring over some viewers from Med because Jay is a fan favorite. The other theory is that they're just hoping that this makes Will jealous, and this whole situation brings Manstead together, and it's completly irrelevant for Jay and Erin. My problem with this though is that the "Chicago Med Jay" and the "CPD Jay" storylines really don't line up, and I hate the lack of continuity.

And lastly, if they really do make Natalie and Jay a thing, and they ruin Linstead and Manstead (well, it would still be Manstead, but whatever) they will lose viewers on BOTH shows. Becasuse seriously, it's complete non sense. Apparently Jay is going to be helping Natalie with a patient next week, so we'll see. UGH!


	20. Chapter 20

Hi y'all! There is something weird going on with the fanfiction website right now where your reviews weren't showing up under the review tab, BUT I still have been getting them via email and I've loved loved loved reading all of them :) They really make my day, so thank you :)

 **Chapter 20**

"Um... a little to the left," Brooke stood back, giving herself a broad view of the expansive wall in her living room.

And an even better view of Jay's backside.

Jay took two large steps to the left, balancing the large framed photograph against the wall. The photograph displayed a young, blond model in a small black bikini, playing and laughing with young children in what appeared to be a poor city street. The group was laughing, as water cascaded around them, the source being a broken fire hydrant. The photograph was signed in the bottom right-hand corner by Quinn James.

It seemed different from the other pieces of art he had already begun to hang in Brooke's new apartment, and he was surprised by this photograph's prominent placement.

As he held the photograph against the wall, he heard Brooke's infectious laugh bubble from behind him, momentarily halting his study of the photograph. "I said _a little_ to the left, Jay."

He turned around and gave her a playful eye roll, along with a slight shake of his head. "Yes, ma'am," he said, moving one step towards the right.

The smile that brightened her face by the new placement made it all worth it, and he began to draw on the wall with a pencil, demarcating the exact placement. Then he leaned over, placing the professionally framed photograph gently on the ground, ready to hammer in the next set of nails.

 _Damn,_ Brooke thought as she watched him lean over, his jeans tightening slightly against his _perfect_ ass. She couldn't help herself as she moved towards him, slipping her hands gently in his back pockets as he straightened.

She leaned her body against his broad back, and kissed him lightly on the side of his neck. Then she melted her body into his back, moving her hands out of his back pockets, and wrapping them around until they locked around his middle.

He leaned into her, closing his eyes for a moment and basking in the feel of her hands on him, her lips on him. "If you keep doing that," he practically panted against her, "We're not going to get your apartment set up by tomorrow."

 _I don't care._

Instead of responding, she just lowered her hands a few inches, until she found the buckle of his jeans. She opened his jeans, slowly and carefully pushing the button through the denim loop and then ever so slowly unzippinp the metal zipper. She allowed her hands to linger as she moved, brushing the back of her hand against him.

She knew he felt it through his underwear, because he let out a low moan.

And then suddenly, he was turning around, shoving his lips against her. Her slow motions turned frantic as he lifted her against him, and pinned her between him and the bare wall.

"I think..." she panted against him, as he moved his lips to the exposed part of her neck and she began to pull on the bottom of his short sleeve t-shirt. "The apartment..." he shoved the skinny straps of her shirt aside, and began moving his lips lower. "Can wait."

At her words, he leaned back for a moment and smiled at her, and her stomach flipped.

 _God, that grin_ , she thought. Grins like that should be illegal.

But then she noticed that his blue eyes were bright with arousal _and_ affection. The combination that showed her he was falling for her just as much as she was falling for him.

 _That_ combination should be illegal, she thought.

"Take me to bed," she whispered.

He grabbed her thighs a little tighter, pulling her off the wall and carrying her down the hallway, all too happy to oblige.

0000000000000000

Jay returned to the living room about an hour later. He hadn't wanted to slip out from beneath Brooke, who had been lightly snoring, her body tucked next to him, just as it had been the past few nights. But he wanted to hang the last of the photographs and paintings, and begin setting up the shelves Brooke had picked out for the wall in the living room.

He desparately wanted this to feel like _home_ for her.

She had only been in Chicago for a few weeks, and had been too busy with setting up her store and the drama with Xavier to really get settled and make any friends. She seemed happy enough to sleep over at his place, to spend time with him at night after she put in a long day at her store, but he wanted _more_ for her.

He wanted her to _love_ her home. The apartment _and_ the city.

And so he had inched slowly out from under her, leaving her warm bed, slipping his jeans back over his body, and got to work.

Four pieces of carefully placed wall decor, and two out of three shelves later, he heard Brooke's voice echoing down the hallway. He put the hammer down, and moved down the long expansive hallway that lead to her bedroom, unable to hear her exact words, but assuming she was speaking to him.

When he made it to the doorway, though, he realized that Brooke was talking into the phone.

"Millie, it's okay. Really," As she said the words, he noticed that her face was saying something _completely_ different.

She seemed _stressed._ He watched her tuck the phone between her ear and shoulder as she jumped out of bed, retrieved his dark green t-shirt from the floor, and wiggle it over her body. "I can handle it," she said, as she moved towards the door.

She seemed to notice him then, because she smiled and seemed to relax ever so slightly. He gave her a smile that he hoped was reassuring, and grabbed her hand in his own.

"Millie, no. I'm fine here. The only thing you should be worrying about right now is Mouth." She paused, presumably listening to Millie speak on the other end of the phone call. "Millie, the only thing _I'm_ worried about right now is Mouth. Okay?"

Millie must have agreed, because Brooke began to nod. "Good. Keep me posted on everything, okay?" Another pause, and then, "Okay, bye Mill."

Jay raised his eyebrows questioningly as she hung up the phone. "What's wrong?" He asked, genuine concern clear in his voice.

She stared at him, the way he was stood effortlessly sexy and shirtless in her doorway, his eyebrows crinkled deep with concern.

God. She didn't deserve him.

"Mouth was in a car accident," she sighed. "Nothing major, he's just bruised and sore. But I told Millie to stay in Omaha this weekend."

"Mouth is Millie's boyfriend?" Jay asked, wondering where on earth he had gotten that nick name from.

"Yeah," Brooke said, moving towards the kitchen, her fingers still intertwined with Jay's. "But he's also a really good friend from high school. I introduced them, actually."

Brooke let go of Jay's hand when they reached the large, eat-in kitchen, and he immediately missed the warmth of her hand against his own. It was becoming a habit, he realized. His _needing_ to touch Brooke, and the feeling that something was missing when he wasn't.

"So, Millie isn't coming in tomorrow morning then?" Jay asked, finally understanding the reason behind Brooke's stressed smile.

Brooke moved towards the fridge and pulled out a carton of skim milk, and then began to pour it into the milk frother of the shiny black Espresso machine. She pressed the button twice, and then turned to Jay while the milk began to spin and foam. "Nope," she sighed. "And without Victoria," she shook her head, still glad she was _without Victoria_ , "I guess I'm setting this store up alone."

No wonder she had seem stressed.

Jay knew that there was _a lot_ to do. The clothing had been delivered from one of the stores earlier today, but the other two deliveries were coming early tomorrow morning. The construction and painting were done, the mannequins were placed in their designated areas, and he knew Brooke had _mostly_ planned for where everything was supposed to go once it got in.

But still, there was going to be a lot to do.

"You're not alone," he said, moving across the room to capture her in his arms. His bare skin pressed against her, well _his,_ t-shirt as he held her. "I can help." He brushed his lips against hers in a gesture that was as comfortable as it was intimate.

"I appreciate that, Jay. More than you know." She said, as the timer for the milk frother went off. "But you have to work. I can handle it." She couldn't ask him to do that. _Especially_ after she had asked him to help set up her apartment.

He released his hold on her, so she had room to prepare her coffee. At this point, it was late in the day, and he was hoping the coffee she was preparing was decaf. But he had a feeling it wasn't.

He knew she had a long night of stressing ahead of her.

"Voight isn't coming back to work until Monday." He was finally discharged early this afternoon. Brooke had picked him up from the hospital, and had driven him home. Jay was pretty sure she had stayed for a while, because he had beat her to her own apartment. "Come to think of it," he said, now warming to the idea. "The team hasn't had anything to do." They had finished their paperwork for the case pertaining to Xavier Daniels, but weren't taking on any new ones until Voight was back. "I'm sure they would be happy to help to."

"Are you sure?" Brooke asked, perking up slightly. "Because that would actually be amazing."

"I'm sure," he said, grinning at her. Not only would they be able to help her with setup and make her life a little easier, but it would come with the added benefit of the team and Brooke spending time together in a casual, noncase-related manner. "Let me go make some calls."

Maybe setting up the apartment wasn't the only way to make her feel at home.

0000000000000

"Where do you want this one?" Ruzek asked Brooke, as he carried one of the FedEx boxes from the back office towards the front of the store the following morning.

"On that table," Brooke instructed, pointing to one of the white tables at the side of the room. "I really can't thank you all enough for helping me today," she said to the rest of the team. She had already thanked them a few times already, but she wanted them to know how much this meant to her.

But there were more boxes than she had been expecting, and even with all of them moving and unloading them, she wasn't sure they were going to get it done.

Steaming each garment, dressing the mannequins with the right accessories, displaying everything in the perfect place. It was _a lot_ of work, and it required a trained eye.

She _really_ needed a few more women for this.

"Are you kidding?" Kim answered from the opposite corner of the room, where she was pulling out folded clothes from a different FedEx box, and laying them out on the table in preparation for the clothes to be steamed. "Thank you for including us! I can't wait for your opening!"

"Your welcome, but I would've invited you all either way." Brooke laughed, grateful that at least Kim was there.

"You mean I didn't have to lug boxes around to score an invite?" Atwater protested, as he settled a large FedEx box down next to Adam's box. "You lied to us, man," he said, turning to Jay.

"Jay! Is that what you told them?" Brooke exclaimed, now feeling even worse.

"I'm just messing with you," Atwater said. "We're happy to help." He and Adam began moving back towards the office to retrieve the last few boxes when he added, "Although, I am hoping you'll let all the hunnies know that I helped with the heavy lifting."

"You got it," she said, laughing.

But Jay noticed that her laugh seemed strained, and her eyes were missing their usual sparkle.

He watched as she moved towards Kim, and turned on the steamer to give it a chance to warm up. Jay lightly placed his FedEx box down, but before he returned to the office to help Ruzek and Atwater, he followed Brooke across the store.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, and whispered quietly in her ear. "We're going to get this done, okay?" He kissed the side of her head lightly, and added, "Everything is going to be perfect."

She relaxed against him, letting the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. "Thanks, Jay," she whispered.

"God," Kim said, interrupting the moment from her spot only three feet away. "I hate you both," she said, half kidding, half serious and full of jealously.

Brooke laughed, happy to take the compliment.

Jay was just happy to hear Brooke's _real_ laughter return.

00000000000000

Two hours later, and the team was steaming clothes left and right. Brooke had even taugh the boys how to use the steamers, making use of all four in the room.

"Brooke," Kim said over the music Brooke had began to play from her iPhone. "This dress is _amazing._ " She was in the process of steaming a form-fitting deep red dress with a completely open back.

"It's yours," Brooke said, recognizing how amazing that shade of red would look against Kim's auburn brown hair.

"What?" Kim replied, her voice increasing several octaves.

"It's yours!" Brooke repeated, smiling this time. "Let me just track down your size," Brooke said, moving away from her own steamer and towards the pile of clothing on Kim's table.

"I couldn't possibly," Kim began, her eyes widening as they settled on the pricetag. "It's _way_ too much."

"Kim, I want you to have it," Brooke said, as she found the size she was looking for. She had been working in fashion a long time, and she didn't need Kim to give her any hints on her size. "You should wear it to the opening," Brooke said, placing it on a bare table and separating it from the rest of the inventory.

"Really?" Kim said, finally relenting.

"Really," Brooke said, squeezing Kim's hand and going back to work.

Jay sent Brooke a soft smile, thanking her for the gesture. He was no longer surprised by her unbelievable generosity, or by her kind heart, but it still took his breath away every time.

She sent him an excited smile back, as if letting him know that she got more excitment out of _giving_ gifts than recieving them.

Damn. She was _amazing._

Adam took a break from steaming his black sleeveless garment to move towards Kim, pretending to be looking for something. What he could possibly be looking for, he had no idea, but he just needed to move closer to her, to see the dress that had completely brightened her face.

He took one look at that red dress and knew she was going to look amazing in it. He was _really_ going to need to step up his suit game.

And he was going to need to find a matching tie.

000000000000

The clothes were all steamed, and the team had taken a break for lunch. But the real work, Brooke knew, was only about to begin.

"What's next?" Jay asked, as he peered at the hangers full of perfectly steamed and pressed clothes, which were hung in no particular order.

"I want to dress the mannequins next," she said, moving towards them. "I need three in each window towards the front of the store, which leaves 8 left to show throughout the store. And I need a variety of styles." A variety of styles _and_ accessories, she thought.

Jay bit his lip, giving her a sheepish look. "We're not going to be much help with that are we?"

She was about to reply, when she heard the front door of her store swing open. She turned at the sudden sound.

"Oh my god!" Brooke yelled, as she ran towards the door. "Hales!"

Before Haley James Scott could even walk through the front door, Brooke had wrapped her arms around in her a tight hug. "What are you doing here?" Brooke said, her voice high pitched and excited.

"Well, Millie called me," she explained, pulling out of the hug and stepping aside so the rest of the group could file in. "She thought you might be able to use some help."

"Oh my god, Jimmy Jam," she said, turning towards her godson. "When did you get so _tall!?_ " She had seen him only a month ago, but she swore he had grown a foot.

He ignored the question, instead wrapping her in a hug. "I missed you, Aunt Brooke," he whispered.

"I missed you too, buddy," she whispered back.

Nathan walked in, holding Lydia, followed by Quinn James, Clay Evans, and Alex Dupree. "Oh my god," Brooke said, smiling so wide her face was sure to break in two. "You're _all_ here." Alex had moved away, but she and Quinn had remained close. And Alex was still a model for Clothes over Bros.

"Are you kidding?" Nathan said, as Brooke grabbed an excited Lydia from his arms. "We wouldn't have missed it."

"I can't believe Millie didn't tell me sooner," Alex said, as she hugged Brooke. "You can't have an opening with your best model." Alex sent Brooke a cheeky smile, and Brooke was so excited she didn't even have to stifle her usual eye roll at Alex's remark.

While Brooke continued to hug and greet everyone near the door, the Intelligence team just stood and watched.

"That's Haley James Scott, the country singer." Kim whispered to Jay. "And Jesus. That's Alex Dupree. The model and actress." Alex was _really, really_ famous. Kim's mouth was practically on the floor. "Did you know Brooke _knew_ these people?"

"Dude," Ruzek added, before Jay could even answer. "That's Nathan Scott, the NBA player."

"I guess we shouldn't be surprised she has famous friends?" Kim said, when Jay still hadn't found it in himself to utter another word. "I mean, she's _Brooke Davis_."

"That's true," Jay said, agreeing finally.

Except, he couldn't help the uneasy feeling that crept in.

Over the past few days, he had forgotten that she was _that_ Brooke Davis.

Instead, he had just seen her as Brooke.

The Brooke that fell asleep wrapped in his arms at night. The Brooke that tangled her legs with his underneath the table as they sipped their morning coffee in his kitchen. The Brooke that kissed him softly and slowly before patting lightly on his butt to send him off to work.

 _His_ Brooke.

But for some reason, standing on the other side of the room, watching the scene unfold as she jumped from one person to another, giving them long and tight hugs, he couldn't help but feel _separate._

Like maybe she'd just been taking a respite from the spotlight, hiding away with him for a few days, before returning to her _real_ life.

Like maybe she hadn't been _his_ after all.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

Hi! So Greenseas asked me to give you all some book recommendations at the end of this chapter, and I really read EVERYTHING so my recommendations probably vary based on genre. But I'm going through my goodreads app for my recommendations :) Lol

The last book I read that I loved was called The Boys in the Boat and it's nonfiction, it's about the 1936 Olymoic Rowing team (I listened to it on audiobook, Edward Hermann from Gilmore Girls narrates). That's a more serious read though :)

If you are looking for a light read - I love everything by Emily Giffin and JoJo Moyes, I recently really liked One True Loves by Taylor Jenkins Reid. If you like Nora Roberts - I really love her Bride Quartet books (There are four of them, each one focuses on a different character but they have all the characters in all of them which I like). Oh I also read Who Do You Love by Jennifer Weiner and I loved that, too.

If you're looking for suspense - I loved Luckiest Girl Alive by Jessica Knoll, Gone for Good by Harlan Coben, All The Missing Girls (SO SO SO GOOD) by Megan Miranda, and I probably have more suggestions on that front.

I also love memoirs, and if you're looking for a good cry you should read When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalinithi, but I may have just liked that one because it was written by a doctor, although I don't think it was that medicine heavy.

Feel free to PM me, I commute and listen to lots of audibooks, so I have many more recommendations if you tell me what type of books you like!


	21. Chapter 21

Hi all :) The fanfiction website has been a little weird lately, so it didn't send out an email with my latest update. So, before you start to read this chapter, make sure you've read the previous one!

Hope you enjoy this one :) Oh, and OBVIOUSLY since I haven't posted since this weeks episodes of Fire/PD/Med, my comments on those are at the bottom! (They contain spoilers, don't read it if you haven't seen them!)

 **Chapter 21**

When Brooke had finally hugged and greeted her friends, she motioned for them to move further into the large room. "Come meet my friends," she said.

As they did, Haley slid an arm around Brooke's waist and leaned into her ear. "Which one's Jay?" Haley whispered.

Brooke could feel the heat rise in her face as she blushed what she could only imagine was a deep shade of crimson. She knew that comment was coming but was not expecting it when Jay was in plain view. "Shhh," she whispered back, raising one eyebrow and nodding her head slightly in his direction as they finally reached the circle where the Intelligence Unit was now standing.

"You're Haley James Scott," Kim rushed out the words, as soon as they joined the group and before Brooke could even open her mouth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to... I'm just a _really_ huge fan." She paused, the redness in her cheeks now rivaling Brooke's recent color. "I'm Kim Burgess."

"Hi, Kim," Haley said, sliding her arm away from Brooke's waist and moving towards Kim. She pulled her into a hug, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "I'm Haley."

Kim stood completely stunned as Brooke made the rest of the necessary introductions.

Through all of this, Jay had been nervously standing in a line of what had become a very large introductory circle, with Adam on his left and Brooke on his right. He had been trying to appear casual, looking at the crowd of faces he didn't recognize, trying to place and remember each name.

Nathan Scott they had previously discussed, although she hadn't realized his wife Haley was _also_ famous. He also hadn't realized that their kids called her _Aunt_ Brooke.

Quinn James also sounded familiar, but she didn't _look_ familiar, and it took him a few minutes realize that he recognized the name from the photograph he had hung the previous night. Clay Evans he didn't know.

And, well, Alex Dupree he had recognized immediately. She was even prettier in person, he realized. Not nearly as pretty as Brooke, and, he noticed, definitely not half as intimidating. Instead, she had an easy smile, and soft brown eyes that were currently settled on Atwater.

Brooke had saved Jay for last, immediately noticing the tension in his shoulders and the uneasiness that he was trying to hide from his face. "And this is Jay Halstead," she said. "My _boyfriend_."

 _What?_

Jay, who's eyes had been watching the eye contact between Kevin and Alex, appreciating the distraction it was providing, suddenly turned towards Brooke, completely stunned, his eyes widening slightly.

She smiled sweetly at him, and the grin that overtook his face in response was so wide it was almost embarrassing. Especially in front of her friends. But he held her gaze, as if they were the only two people in the room.

"Well," Haley said, interrupting the moment, "Jay, it is wonderful to meet you. Brooke has told us so much about you."

Haley was about to lean into give Jay a hug, _always_ the hugger, but her son stepped forward, and began to inspect Jay, narrowing his eyes and slowly looking him up and down.

 _Oh, Jamie,_ Haley thought. He was _so_ protective of his Aunt Brooke.

"So you're my Aunt Brooke's boyfriend?" Jamie asked, and Brooke could tell he was trying _very_ hard to keep his voice stern and steady.

 _Apparently._ "I am," Jay replied, meeting the young boys gaze. "It's very nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand to shake it. Man to man.

"Hmm..." Jamie replied, shaking his hand but keeping his eyes narrow, his eyebrow crinkled. "We'll see," he said, slowly.

"Okay, son," Nathan cut in, moving towards the pair. "Be nice," he said, in a warning tone. Then he reached out to shake Jay's hand, "Nice to meet you, man."

Jay smiled, but the uneasiness that had faded with Brooke's proclamation was slowly returning. "You too, man."

"Okay," Quinn finally spoke up, interrupting the last of the introductions. She had been looking around large room and already had some ideas on how to arrange the clothes so that they would really pop in photographs. She knew this could be great press for her friend. "I think it's time to kick the boys out and get to work."

Brooke let out a grateful sigh, "I can't believe you guys came all the way here to help me with this," she said, tears forming in her eyes. "I don't know how I would have gotten this done without you."

"Oh, please," Haley said, her deep red lipstick a stark contrast from her pearly white smile. "You don't _actually_ need us. You're Brooke Davis."

"Brooke Penelope Davis!" Jamie chimed in.

Brooke turned her godson and sent him a wink, before turning back to the group and adding, "But still. Thank _god_ for you guys." Because as much as she knew _they_ believed she could do it, _she_ wasn't so sure.

"Don't get too excited," Clay chimed in from his spot next to his wife, Quinn. "While you ladies work, we're going out for food and beer. And we're putting it on your tab."

Brooke just laughed, "Fair enough."

"Jay, Adam, Kevin," Nathan turned towards them, "You coming?"

"Definitely." Adam replied, before Jay had a chance to refuse.

He had wanted to spend the day helping Brooke. Even if he couldn't match a dress with the appropriate jacket and shoes to save his life, he had at least wanted to _be_ there. To give whatever support he _was_ able to provide.

And also, he wasn't sure how comfortable he was spending time with Brooke's friends, _without_ having her as backup.

"Where were y'all heading?" Atwater chimed in, as he slid his leather jacket over arms.

"Wherever you want to take us," Clay said, as he turned to give his wife a quick kiss and then moved towards the door. "You're the ones who live around here," he added, explaining that they had, in fact, no specific place in mind.

"Fair enough," Atwater agreed, following the group towards the front door, happy to finally be _away_ from all the designer clothes. The heavy lifting he could handle, even the steaming garments hadn't been too bad, but _organizing_ the clothes. _That's_ really where he drew the line.

Jay lagged back for a moment, unsure of exactly what to do. He knew he had to move to catch up with the guys, that they would soon disappear behind the large double doors without him. But he didn't feel _ready_ to leave just yet.

Thankfully, as soon as he stepped his foot in the direction of the door, Brooke grabbed his hand and pulled him aside, away from the circle and out of earshot of the rest of the group.

"Is this okay?" She asked, smiling nervously, but hopefully at him.

The mere sight of her dimples sinking deep into her cheeks relaxed him, and he didn't even bother answering her question, instead posing one of his own. " _Boyfriend_ , huh?"

The millisecond of insecurity that flashed across her face went a long way to ease the tension and worry that had built up in the past several minutes. She was just as nervous, just as _eager_ for his approval, as he was.

But then the look of insecurity was gone and she smirked, followed by a _very_ sultry wink. "Well," she said, "Only if you play your cards right with Jamie."

He just chuckled lightly before leaning in and brushing his lips over hers, "Well, Brooke _Penelope_ Davis," he said, winking at her. "I'll do my best."

He turned to go, but she pulled him back once more, clearly not ready for him to leave quite yet.

That was okay. He wasn't ready to leave either.

"I'm really glad you're going to get to know some of my friends," she said, her voice calm and clear but her posture _completely_ giving her away. "This _is_ okay, right?"

Jay took one look at her excited eyes and knew he couldn't refuse her anything. "Absolutely, _girlfriend._ "

The subsequent smile that lit up her face made it all worth it.

000000000

"So Jay is _hot_ ," Alex said, the first to voice what everyone else was already thinking. She didn't take her eyes off of her mannequin as she spoke, perfectly laying the navy blazer over the patterned chiffon top. Of course, she didn't have to take her eyes off the mannequin to know that Brooke was likely smiling wide in response.

"Yeah," Haley agreed. "Millie mentioned that over the phone. But _wow,_ " she said, also focused on her final mannequin, making sure the three looks in the window complemented each other but weren't too similar. "He's like _hot, hot._ "

"Guys," Brooke said nervously, shifting her gaze away from the window display and towards Kim Burgess, who was standing only a few feet away.

"Hey," Kim said, waving her hand dismissively. "Don't stop on my account." Kim was currently organizing the glass jewelry display in the center of the story. "And, don't worry, I'm not going to tell him," she said, a slow smirk growing on her lips. "He _definitely_ doesn't need _that_ kind of ego at work."

Brooke laughed at Kim's words, liking her more and more already.

Brooke _loved_ her friends, and she was really glad they were here, but she was also so happy to be spending time with Kim. Because really, her Tree Hill friends were going to leave Chicago when this opening was all over, and she was going to need some friends _in_ Chicago.

"So you work with Jay, then?" Haley asked, finally satisfied with her window display and moving away to admire it.

"Yeah," Kim replied, "I'm an officer in the unit where he's a detective."

"So then, you helped take down Xavier?" Haley asked, her voice catching and stumbling over his name.

Kim looked up from the jewelry display, finally meeting Haley's eyes as she nodded a quiet _yes._

Haley walked across the room and wrapped her arms around Kim in a hug that was even _more_ heartfelt than the one before it. "Thank you," she whispered, completely unsure how she would ever be able to thank these people for saving her best friend, but knowing she was going to have to try.

"I'm just glad I could help," Kim said, quietly, a little uncomfortable with this type of attention. Especially from someone she had idolized herself for years.

Brooke sent Kim a grateful smile of her own, as Haley moved back across the room, until she reached Brooke who had been assessing the final window display.

Still a little unsettled by the attention, Kim decided to take a break from laying out accessories and went to retrieve a bottle of water.

"So," Quinn said, gauging the situation and deciding it was likely time to lighten the mood. "How's the sex?"

Kim, who had been mid-sip, almost choked on her water, coughing violently for several moments. "Okay," she said, when her coughing finally settled down. " _That_ I could do without knowing."

Brooke couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her, but she turned to Kim and gave her a _very_ heartfelt, "Sorry," before turning back and facing the window display once again.

But then, when Kim stepped away for a moment to collect herself, Haley leaned in from her spot next to her. "So really," she whispered, "How _is_ the sex?"

Brooke turned to Haley, raising her eyebrow and making a _very_ appreciative face as she shook her head in disbelief.

"Well," Haley said, "I guess that says it all, then."

"Mhmm," Brooke agreed.

 _Except that doesn't even come close._

000000000000000

"So, Jay," Nathan said, as he settled his beer down on the wooden table and went for another french fry. "You met Brooke on a case?"

"Yeah," Jay nodded, grabbing for his own ice cold beer and taking a long sip. The car ride to the Purple Pig had been uneventful, but Jay had been waiting for this line of questioning, knowing it was coming.

"How did her case get assigned to your unit?" Clay asked.

"Well, she knew-"

Jay cut off Atwater before he could finish his statement. "This is a pretty standard case for us," Jay said, giving Atwater and Ruzek glances that he _hoped_ told them to _shut up_ but also didn't give anything away to Nathan or Clay. "So when Brooke came to the police with this, it got kicked up to us."

He wasn't _exactly_ sure what Brooke's friends knew about her time in New York City, but for some reason, he had a feeling they didn't know what had happened to her that had lead her to Hank Voight.

Especially if they were asking _that_ question, not already knowing the answer.

Jay knew it was small of him, but he couldn't help the pride that swelled inside him at the thought that Brooke had shared something so intimate with him, something that she hadn't told anyone, and that she had done it without any reservations.

She just trusted him _that_ much.

"Hmm," Nathan nodded, seemingly accepting that answer, much to the relief of Jay. "And Hales says you got assigned as like her bodyguard or something in the beginning? That she and Millie stayed with you?"

Ruzek laughed at that, answering the question before Jay had a chance. "Yeah," he said, "And Jay couldn't _stand_ her at first."

It was funny, Jay thought, that ' _at first'_ was actually less than two weeks ago. Oh, how things had changed.

And fast.

"Really?" That earned a smile from Nathan, as he sipped slowly on his beer.

"Really," Jay confirmed, happier with this topic than the previous one. "But I didn't actually know her." _And I was dealing with my own shit._

At that thought, it occurred to Jay that he hadn't thought about _his own shit_ in days.

He hadn't felt the need to start the day at the boxing gym, thrusting his fist hard into a punching bag, or better yet, into someone's face.

He hadn't felt the need to start the day at the gun range, severing the black ink of the paper offender, tearing the perfect circle in two.

He hadn't woken up with that itch in _days._

"Well," Nathan said, laughing now. "She can be..." he paused, looking for the right word.

"A lot to handle?" Clay offered.

Nathan rolled his eyes, "I was going to say guarded."

 _Well, that's true,_ Jay thought.

But then Nathan continued, "And maybe a little intimidating?"

"Intimidating, oh, yes," Adam nodded. "That's _definitely_ true. You should've _seen_ her throw down with her mother."

"Victoria was here?" Nathan's eyes widened.

"Yeah," Atwater confirmed with a nod. "But that girl _definitely_ can handle herself."

"Well, good." Nathan said, his voice turning serious. "I've known Brooke a long time, and her mother..." he just shook his head in disgust. Ever since becoming a parent himself, he couldn't understand how a parent could just _abandon_ their child. How they could just leave their child alone in a huge house to just fend for themselves. "Let's just say, Brooke has had a lot to overcome."

 _She certainly has,_ Jay thought. "It didn't take long for me to change my mind about her, though," Jay revealed, so unbelievably glad that he did.

00000

The group had finished their food, and were working on their third round of beers when Jay felt his cell phone vibrating deep in his pocket.

"I've got to take this," he said, moving out of his chair as he looked down at the name illuminating the screen.

"Hey, Brooke," he said, as he walked towards the door of the restaurant and out into the night breeze. The spring weather seemed to have receded with the sun, and he tightened his jacket around him slightly.

"Hey," He could feel her smile through the phone, and he wished he was there so he could kiss it. "Are you having fun?"

"I am," he said, "I am enjoying hearing stories about _you,_ " he added, his voice teasing.

"Oh, _god,_ " she replied, "Don't believe everything you hear," she said, repeating his own words back to him.

He laughed in response, not even bothering to hide the embarrassingly wide smile that was currently on his face. No one could see him anyway. "Oh, I will."

She laughed then, too, and the sound warmed his insides enough that he didn't need to tighten his jacket against the cold. "How's it going over there?" He asked, hoping she was making progress and was going to be able to get everything done.

"We're finished!" She exclaimed loudly in his ear.

"Really? That's great!" He said, surprised. It had only been a few hours. Those girls must have _seriously_ gotten to work when they left.

"That's actually while I'm calling," she said, her voice returning to it's normal volume. "We're _starving._ I think we are going to pick up food and head to the apartment. Want to bring the guys and meet us there?"

"Sure do," he replied, eager to see her. He actually _missed_ her, which seemed impossible, since he'd only been away from her for a few hours. But she just had that affect on him, and hearing her voice over the phone only made his desire to see her stronger.

"Great," she said. Adding, "See you at home," before she hung up.

 _See you at home._

 _Home._

Surely, she hadn't meant for the words to come out that way. She had probably meant to say _my_ home. Or maybe she had meant to say see you _there._

Or maybe she hadn't meant anything by it at all.

But, either way, it didn't matter.

Because as she said those words, his recent thoughts from inside the restaurant returned full force.

 _He hadn't thought about his own shit in days._

 _He hadn't woken up with that itch in days._

And in that moment, standing with the phone pressed against his ear, long after she had hung up, he realized _when_ that had actually started. How many _days_ it had actually been.

It had been 9 days to be exact.

He hadn't had those thoughts in 9 days.

Not since the first day he had woken up in Brooke Davis' arms.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

Okay now for my thoughts on the episodes! (Spoiler alert!)

Fire - I feel like Taylor Kinney is a FANTASTIC actor because that scene in the hospital literally KILLED me. My eyes were swollen the next morning because I cried _that_ much. But also, I'm really sad because I just wanted him to finally be happy!

PD - So, I feel like I definitely overanalyze this show _way_ too much, but I was thinking about the first scene and about what Jay was saying about that couple... and I was thinking that that comment would've made _a lot_ of sense if he was having nightmares/PTSD symptoms at night. I just wish they would bring in that storyline, and make all of that more clear.

And as for the hug, ugh, I just feel like that's something I would've appreciated SO MUCH in season 2 or even early season 3, when they weren't together yet and it was all heavy, meaningful glances and flirting and them moving towards being together. But honestly, now I just feel like they're moving backwards! He should've gone after her! And I actually can't read all of these fics that take place after 4x21 with him going after her because it literally depresses me so much because that's never going to happen in the actual show lol. I just want them to be together!

Med - Okay, so I decided that I think they just brought Jay into bring over more viewers because he's the fan favorite right now. He wasn't really necessary in that episode at all (he was super hot in the episode though, lol). And seriously, Natalie and Will win for best chemistry this week. I mean, woahhhhh. That's definitely going to happen next week I think.

Okay, those are my thoughts :) Thanks for reading them lol! Hope you have a great weekend!


	22. Chapter 22

Hi all :) I don't know what is going on with the fan fiction website, but I have previously posted 2 chapters and emails haven't been sent out to the followers of this story! So before you read this chapter, go back and verify that you've read the other ones!

Hope you all had a great weekend :)

 **Chapter 22**

He should have known he had spoken too soon.

He should have known that a few days of bliss with a beautiful girl wouldn't turn back time, wouldn't make it all okay. That the memories that he had shoved so gracelessly into the deepest parts of his brain weren't just going to _stay_ there.

Even if the beautiful girl was Brooke Davis.

Even if he was _pretty sure_ that she was the _one._

He had spent the evening in the company of her friends, enjoying hearing the stories and truly seeing Brooke in her element. She clearly _loved_ to entertain.

But by the time her friends had finally left, he could tell she was _exhausted._ She had spent the day on her feet, in _very_ high heels, preparing for tomorrow's opening. And he also knew her to do list tomorrow was even longer.

So he had offered to leave, to return home to his own apartment to spend the evening there. He wasn't sure what she usually did the night before a big event in her life, but he didn't want to just _presume_ that she would want him there.

Even if there was no place that _he_ would rather be.

At his offer, she had just smiled, grabbing his hand and slowly leading him to her bedroom. And he had fallen asleep, once again, with her bare limbs wrapped warm around his body, in post-coital bliss.

But when he woke up, the room still dark around him, he was sweaty and he was panting.

And _not_ in the same way he had been just a few hours before.

"Jay, Jay, wake up," he could hear the terror in her voice, even if he couldn't see it in her face. His head was too full of Mouse's face, and it was like the only thing he could see, his eyes unable to adjust to the darkness of the room.

"Jay," she said again, and he shook his head, trying to shake the images from his brain and drag himself back to reality. It wasn't working.

It wasn't working _at all._

He had dreamt that Mouse had been shot. That Mouse had been killed right in front of him, and there had been nothing he could do.

He had tried to run, tried to run and save him, but his legs felt as heavy as lead. Mouse had been screaming for him, _begging_ him to come and help him. But he couldn't budge.

Jay was pretty sure he would _never_ forget the sound of Mouse's screams. Or the sounds of his own, in response.

But then, only a moment later, he was standing above Mouse, in that way that only dreams will allow. Where one minute you are standing several feet away, fighting with everything you have to move towards them while they lay dying, and then the next minute you're standing above them, peering at their lifeless form, all the while wondering how you got there, why you couldn't get there sooner, and ultimately knowing it's _your_ fault.

"Jay, are you okay?" Brooke was pleading with him now, he could hear it in her voice, feel it in the vibrations of her body. His eyes were beginning to adjust, and all at once he'd wished they hadn't.

Tears were streaking down Brooke's broken face, her eyes were swollen, and she looked _terrified._

In all the times he had seen her scared before, it had never been like this. Not that first day in the bullpen, and not even the day she had walked into that house, looking for Sam and seeing Hank bleeding close by on the floor.

Because those other times she had looked for him to _help_ her. And this time he was the _cause_.

He tried to steady his breathing, for himself or for her he wasn't sure. Once again he tried to shove the images of war and guns and blood from his mind. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the only thing he could find it in him to say. Even as he said it, he knew it wasn't enough.

She wrapped her arms around him then, completely unsure of what to do next. "It's okay," she said, trying to sooth him with her words and her slow caresses up and down his arm, across his shoulders, then down his back. She wasn't sure if it was working. "It's okay."

She held him like that for a long time, feeling his uneven breaths, ragged against her own body. His body felt hot against hers, with his perspiration trickling off of him and landing onto her skin. But she didn't dare move.

She tried to stifle her own tears, but it wasn't easy. The sounds that had awoken her, the sounds that had come out of his mouth as he thrashed in bed next to her, they hadn't sounded like him. They hadn't sounded like the confident, self-assured Jay that she knew. They didn't even sound like the scared, broken Jay she had seen one the rare occasions that he had told her about his time in the military.

They hadn't sounded _human._

When she couldn't bare the silence any longer, she whispered against him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

 _No,_ he thought, almost immediately.

But not because he didn't _want_ to tell her. Instead, it was because he knew that it wasn't going to be a short conversation. He wasn't going to be able to reveal the hard truths of his life, reveal everything that haunted him, and then turn over, and go back to sleep.

And tonight? Well, tonight needed to be about her. Because tomorrow was the opening of her store.

And if it went well, it would mean she would stay here. She would stay here, in Chicago, with him, and then they would have plenty of time for longer, revealing conversations.

But he didn't want to dismiss her concerns. He didn't want her to think that he was shutting down, closing her out, like he had with so many before her. And so he said, simply, "You have your opening tomorrow."

She moved away from him for a moment, releasing him slightly so that he could look into her deep, hazel eyes. "I don't care about my opening," she said, shaking her head as if to say that was the _last_ thing on her mind. "I care about _you._ "

He sighed, realizing, maybe for the first time, how much he truly believed those words.

Yesterday she had spent the _entire_ morning trying to fit in with _his_ friends. Then she spent the entire evening trying to make sure he liked _her_ friends. And then she had wanted to spend the night before a _huge_ event in her life wrapped in his arms.

She cared about him.

She could have whoever she wanted. She could have celebrities or athletes, models or musicians. She could have men who hadn't gone to war, who hadn't carried it home with them.

But she didn't want them. She wanted _him_.

 _God knows why,_ he thought.

He moved his body slightly, so that now he was wrapping his body around her _,_ as opposed to the other way around. He shifted his head back on his pillow, not really wanting to see the look in her eyes as he spoke.

"When I came home from my second tour," he began, "I did the cemetery tour of America." He recalled staring at the headstones, his expression blank as he laid flowers on top of the freshly mowed grass. "I missed the funerals, because I was still overseas," he continued, and he noticed that Brooke had moved from under his arm and sat up, her legs draped over his own.

Evidently, she _did_ want to look into his eyes as he spoke.

"But when I got back home, I had a lot of friends that went back." He hadn't gone back, he had stayed home. At first because his mother lay dying, but then, he had joined the police force and just tried to forget it all. "And when they started dying over there, I didn't have the luxury of missing those funerals."

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain his composure. "Seeing your buddy laid in the ground is one thing," he said, trying to explain, willing her to understand. "But watching their families cry, watching their children clutch the flag in their hand as if..."

She already _did_ understand what he meant, but she let him continue.

"As if it would bring them closer to their dad," he couldn't stop the lone tear that fell from his eye, and suddenly his voice broke. Suddenly it was all too much. His vision blurred as he remembered that particular funeral, the two little blond girls grasping their mother's hand tightly, just trying to make sense of it all.

That night he drank so much he didn't remember getting home.

And he hadn't gone home alone, either.

"Jay," Brooke said, her voice soothing and soft. "I'm so sorry." She wasn't sure what else to say, but she hoped he understood how much she meant it. How terribly sorry she was, how much she wished she could just make it all better for him.

He reached for her hand and squeezed it, trying to let her know how much he appreciated it. But he still wasn't able to find his words quite yet, his throat still thick with emotion.

They sat their quietly for a moment, until he finally found it in himself to continue. To tell her the real reason for his recent nightmares. "My best friend is over there," he revealed. "Mouse."

 _Oh_ , she thought, realizing that the nightmare wasn't over. Jay wasn't just grieving for his lost friends, and he wasn't just living through the awful memories.

He was scared.

He was scared it was going to happen all over again.

"I thought I had a handle on this," he moved his hands to gesture the sweaty, tangled mess of the sheets, the clear evidence of his nightmare. "But I don't know," he shook his head slightly, "Mouse went back and it all came rushing back."

"Of course it did," Brooke said, shaking her head slightly and trying to let him know he didn't need to be ashamed of his reaction. Not to her.

"I've had nightmares almost every night, actually," he whispered quietly, embarrassed by his words. "Until that first night, on the couch, with you." And he wasn't sure why they had come back now.

"Jay," she said, a sad smile growing on her lips. "I'm _glad_ this happened."

"What?" He replied immediately, sitting up and completely surprised.

He may not know why they had come back. But she did.

Because he was finally ready to work through it. He was ready to move _past_ it.

Maybe before he hadn't been ready, or maybe before he hadn't _known_ she would stick by him _while_ he moved past it. That she would help him through it, whatever it took.

But something had happened yesterday. Something had happened when they spent the day together, and he was finally allowing himself to be his truest self with her.

He was showing her his deepest fears, all the parts of his soul.

And she was thrilled.

But she wasn't sure how to put all of that into words, so instead she just said, "We're going to work through it," then she reached for his hand and laced it in her own. "Together."

And she hoped that was enough.

000000

The next time Jay woke up, it was to the smell of coffee under his nose. He slowly slipped into consciousness, waking up to the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the half-opened shades and the view of Brooke Davis seated next to him on the bed.

"Good morning," he said, clearing his throat, which was still thick with sleep.

"Good morning, baby," she said, trying out the word for the first time, and enjoying how it felt on her lips. She leaned into give Jay a slow kiss, enjoying how _that_ felt on her lips even more.

"Coffee in bed?" He raised an eyebrow as he took the mug she offered and took a slow, tentative sip. "Trying to spoil me so I'll never go home?"

 _Yes,_ she thought. _Please never go home._

"Quite the opposite," she replied, instead. She jumped off of the bed, and he noticed for the first time that she was fully dressed. "I am ditching you for breakfast this morning, because I have to meet Cara at the store in 20 minutes."

She had woken up over an hour before, and hadn't been sure what to do. She needed to meet Cara this morning to run through where the caterers could set up, to decide where the bar would need to be, and to iron out the last minute details with her.

And when she had woken up, Jay had been snoring lightly beneath her. His face had been so calm, his lips open ever so slightly in a way that made her want to lean over and kiss them.

She had desperately wanted to wake him, wanting to spend a casual breakfast at the table, their legs wrapped together underneath the table while they sipped their freshly brewed lattes.

But she also knew he needed his sleep. Even after their conversation, it had taken him a _long_ time to fall back asleep, his even breathing and light snores only evident to her after an hour had passed.

So she had slipped into the shower, worrying over him the whole time, and decided to just wake him up before she left. She could check in and see how he was, but also make sure he got as much rest as he could.

"Oh, I see how it is." He said, his voice melodramatic and his smirk wide on his lips.

She smiled, a light laugh leaving her lips as she moved to finish getting dressed. When she had slipped into her favorite nude heels, and fastened her new pair of Clothes over Bros jewel-toned earrings, she moved back towards the bed, her tone turning serious. "Are you going to be okay here, today? Do you want me to stay home?" Her opening may be important, but nothing was as important as making sure Jay was okay.

He smiled, touched by her concern. He reached for her, softly touching her cheek with his palm. "Yeah, baby," he nodded ever so slightly, "I'm going to be okay."

And when he leaned forward to kiss her, he was shocked to realize how much he _meant_ those words.

How much he truly believed he _was_ going to be okay.

With Brooke Davis by his side, he was pretty sure he could do anything.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	23. Chapter 23

Hi all :) Thanks so much for your patience this past week! Hope you enjoy this chapter! Also, the fan fiction website has been weird lately, so just make sure you're up to the right chapters :) Happy reading! And HAPPY WEEKEND!

Oh, and of course, thoughts on this weeks episodes at the bottom! Spoiler alerts, don't read them if you haven't seen the episode.

 **Chapter 22,**

"I think the corner could work," Brooke tilted her head slightly, trying to envision moving the display of clothes slightly to the left to accommodate the long, narrow bar.

It wasn't working. "Um..." Brooke turned her head, taking in the rest of the room. She liked how nicely spaced the clothing racks presently were. It would give customers plenty of room to browse while they drank champagne and ate passing hors d'oeuvres. "How about we use the check out counter as the bar," she considered the long, clean white counter. The cash register and all credit card equipment was hidden away just like she liked it, highlighting the clean lines of the counter.

"Won't you need it to check people out?" Cara asked, turning and considering the counter, as well. "Actually," she said, as she began to envision it. "I think it's long enough for both."

"Exactly," Brooke said, smiling at her. The caterer was scheduled to be there in about 30 minutes, giving them plenty of time to map everything out.

"Let me call the caterers and tell them not to bring tables for the bar." It was costing them extra, and maybe Cara could negotiate to get some of their money back if they weren't using it.

"No, don't," Brooke said, turning back towards Cara. "Let's set up a second bar near the dressing rooms," she smiled mischievously at Cara and added, "People like the look of clothes even more when they have a glass of something in their hand."

Cara just laughed, shaking her head. "You're a genius."

"I know," Brooke replied with a laugh of her own, but she stopped when she heard the sound of her iPhone ringing from inside her purse, where it laid on one of the side tables. "Hold on," she said to Cara, walking briskly towards her bag. She found her phone and smiled at Cara, "Sorry, I have to take this."

Cara waved her hand dismissively as Brooke slid her finger across the screen to accept the call. "Hey, Millie, how's Mouth?"

"Mouth's doing much better," Millie replied, "How are _you_ doing? How's Cara? Is she getting everything done? Are you sure you don't need me to fly out today? There's a flight in two hours and I could be there in-"

"Millie," Brooke cut her off, a smile growing her lips. Millie was an amazing assistant, but she was an even better friend. "Everything is fine, really. Stay with Mouth, I have everything under control here."

"Are you sure?" Millie asked, concern leaking into her voice.

"Yes," Brooke replied, "I'm sure."

"This is your first opening that I won't be there," she whispered into the phone, now less worried but now feeling nostalgic and sad to miss it.

"I know," Brooke replied, thinking back to her very first store opening in New York. She had _just_ hired Millicent two days before, and right away she had proven to be a godsend. And she had been with her ever since. "I'll miss you." Brooke paused a moment and then added, "And hey, thanks for calling Haley."

"You're welcome," she replied back.

"I've gotta go back to it," Brooke said, knowing the amount of time before the caterers came was quickly dwindling.

"Okay," Millie said, "Let me know how everything goes. And call me if you need _anything._ Okay?"

"Okay," Brooke replied. "Bye, Millie."

Brooke was about to lift her phone away from her ear and swipe to end the call when she heard Millicent on the other line. "Wait, Brooke."

"Yeah?" She said, letting Millie know she was still on the line.

"Tu peux le faire."

"Thanks, Millie." Brooke whispered, touched at her words.

Then she smiled and slipped her phone back into her purse, as she remembered the first _real_ fashion show she had designed for after she had gone into business with her mother.

It had been in Paris. She had been excited but also nervous, constantly switching from jumping up and down in exhilaration and then breaking out into a cold sweat.

She had meticulously planned every outfit, every style, every _detail_ , down the the color of the model's eyeshadow. She had planned for _weeks._ So while she had been nervous, she had also been _ready._

But then two hours before she was supposed to go on, she noticed that the looks were completely different than what she had outlined. And not just the eyeshadow, the jewelry, and the shoes, but _entire_ outfits.

Two jackets had been swapped. One skirt was missing, replaced with a pair of fitted black pants that she could have _sworn_ were from last season. And the worst of all, no one was wearing the silver gown. The one that was the main piece of her couture collection, the one she had _tirelessly_ hand stitched for the occasion.

It had been her mother, of course. She knew that right away. And when she confronted her about it, Victoria said she had made ' _necessary changes'_ because ' _she knew best'._

Brooke had been devastated. But she had been resigned to listen to her mother, because she hadn't been as strong back then. Or maybe she had been, but the desire for her mother's love and affection had just won out.

And so, she hadn't changed anything. She had hid the tears that filled unbidden to her eyes, and she forced herself to spend the new two hours working on the outfits that _were_ there.

But the whole time, without Brooke _or_ Victoria's knowledge, Millie had been on a mission. She had found that silver gown tucked away in the back of a line of garment bags, and then she found the perfect model to wear it.

Then last minute she found Brooke. She had pointed to the dress, the model she had dressed in secret, to Brooke's exact specifications, and then she said, "Tu peux le faire, Brooke."

 _You can do this._

The tears finally fell in that moment, but this time they were happy, _grateful_ tears.

By the time Victoria realized the switch, the model was tearing down the runway in the dress.

And as it turned out, that dress had been the talk of the show.

It had put her on the map, taking her small, just starting out company into an international sensation.

Brooke wasn't sure where she would be without Millicent Huxtible. But she did know she was _very_ glad she was never going to have to find out.

0000000000

"Pizza's here," Jay called out as he walked in holding three boxes of Chicago's best deep dish pizza.

"Thank god," Jamie said, running towards the door. "I'm _starving._ "

Jay smiled down at the blond boy clad in jeans and a Charlotte Bobcats jersey and said, "I hope you like pepperoni."

He had called Brooke an hour ago, offering to pick up lunch for her and Cara, and any of the caterers or workers that needed food. She had told him that Nathan, Haley, Jamie, and Lydia were on their way over, too.

The smile that lit up Jamie's face made him _very_ glad he had thought to ask Brooke what his favorite kind of pizza was.

That was _definitely_ going to help him get onto Jamie's good side.

"Thank you," Nathan said, as he approached and helped Jay unload the boxes onto one of the side tables.

"Wait," Brooke shouted, and Jay's eyes moved to the sound of her voice, noticing her for the first time in the room. She looked beautiful today, in what he knew she considered her _casual_ outfit, which was still paired with heels that made her legs look long and sexy.

But he noticed that she also looked a little stressed, and maybe even a little tired, and he wanted to _kick_ himself for keeping her up all night, for listening to her when she said she cared more to listen to his story than she did about her opening. Because even if it was true, _he_ should care more about her opening.

"Don't put that there!"

At the urgency of her tone, he immediately lifted the boxes off the white table, examining the clean surface to make sure he hadn't left any crumbs. He hadn't, of course, since the box was closed and secure, but he checked wiped his and across the table nonetheless.

When he was done wiping the imaginary crumbs from the clean white surface, he looked up and noticed that instead of the concern he had, Nathan was rolling her eyes at Brooke and Haley seemed to be shaking her head slightly.

So in lieu of responding to Jay, Brooke replied to the mock irritation radiating off her friends. "You know I love you, and you know I appreciate all of the help," she smiled at them sweetly, "But if you get food on the clothes, I will kill you. Well, except for you, handsome," she said, sending Jamie a wink for good measure.

"Where should I put it?" Jay laughed, but still held the heavy boxes because he knew Brooke meant business.

"Um..." Brooke said, looking around once again. "Let's take a break and eat in the office."

Haley lifted Lydia into her arms, Jay adjusted the pizza in his, and the group of them walked back to the office.

As soon as they reached it, Brooke motioned for a clean table for Jay to lay the boxes down.

But then her eyes found the envelope that had been on her desk, the one she had already addressed and stamped, and had planned to mail out in the middle of next week. She smiled, deciding she would rather give this gift in person.

So while the other's moved towards the pizza, sliding pieces onto the paper plates that Jay had also supplied, she moved towards her purse to pull out her check book.

"Hey Jamie," she said, smiling a she moved towards him. "Does someone have a _birthday_ coming up?"

Jamie thought for a moment, and then said, "I do, I do!" It was only a week away, and he knew _exactly_ what was coming.

"Well," Brooke said, setting the checkbook on the desk as Jamie rushed towards her. "Let's see."

Jay watched Jamie's eyes light up, a lot more than they had with the pizza, as he rushed towards where Brooke stood leaning over her desk.

"You get this much for being my godson," she scribbled a number Jay couldn't see as Jamie's eyes widened. "And an _extra_ zero for being my favorite guy."

"Thank you, Aunt Brooke!" He smiled, taking the check into his hands, his eyes still fixed on the amount written.

"You're welcome, little man. But don't spend it all in one place" she replied, as she bent down to give him a big hug. "Now go get your pizza."

Jay lifted a slice of pizza, sans mushrooms as requested, and began moving towards Brooke.

"Hey," he said, whispering into her ear as she took the pizza from him. "I'm a little insulted."

"Why?" She said, her eyes widening in confusion and maybe a tiny bit of anxiety.

God, she was adorable.

"I thought _I_ was your favorite guy."

When the smile lit up her face, he didn't even stop himself when he bent his head to kiss it.

But of course, that earned him a big _"EW!"_ and a scowl from Jamie.

 _Well,_ he thought, as Brooke laughed beside him. _You win some, you lose some._

000000000000

"So," Haley said, trying to keep her voice casual as she sat Brooke's desk. Brooke was finishing the last few items on her to-do list, and then they were both going to leave the store to go get dressed and ready for the opening. It was the first time they had been alone since she had gotten to Chicago. "You and Jay seem really happy."

Brooke, who was reviewing the final list of inventory into her MacBook at her desk paused for a moment to turn to Haley. "We are," she replied, shrugging her shoulders nervously but not even trying to hide her shy smile.

"Like _really_ happy." Haley continued, moving closer to the desk. "Like happier than I've seen you in a long time."

 _I'm happier than I've been in a long time,_ Brooke thought, immediately. _Maybe ever._

"Yeah," she said instead, sighing slightly.

"What's wrong?" Haley asked, concern leaking into her voice.

"Nothing." _Everything._

"Brooke..." Haley said, expectantly, her hands moving towards her hips in a questioning stance.

"It's just..." she stopped, looking around the room and making sure there was no one in ear shot. She was glad to finally have her best friend alone, to finally unload her fears to someone who would just immediately understand. "I feel like I've known him _forever_."

"And..." Haley nodded, signaling for her friend to continue.

"But I've actually barely known him two weeks," she said. She shook her head slightly in exasperation.

"Right," Haley said, finally after a long silence, and finally understanding completely. "So, then is it safe to say you haven't told him why you're _really_ in Chicago?"

"No," she whispered, "I haven't."

Haley moved towards her, putting her arms around her and pulling her in for a hug.

"But I want to," Brooke continued, her voice low and raspy, full of emotion. "But, Hales," Tears were slowly growing in her eyes, as she repeated the same sentiment she had only a moment ago. This time she let all of the meaning seep into her words. "I've barely known him two weeks."

Haley hugged her back, allowing her to release the tears and cry on her shoulder. "When's your first appointment?" Haley asked.

"Wednesday."

"Are you going to tell him?" Haley asked, her voice soft and soothing.

"I don't know." _No._

She couldn't tell him, she knew. It was too soon. It was _way_ too soon.

The intensity of her feelings for Jay, and the _speed_ at which she was beginning to feel them, it was all too much. It was _terrifying._

 _Really_ terrifying.

Because having something _this_ amazing in your life just meant having that something to lose.

It just meant constant fear and worry that it would be taken away.

 _And if he knows,_ she thought. _He might just go away on his own._

And that, she knew, would crush her even more than any of the rest of it.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

Okay, so my thoughts :)

For PD: I am glad that they are bringing in more Linstead scenes, but I am feeling so impatient about all of it for some reason. Like if they were still dating, I would've loved that scene where Erin confided in him about Bunny. And I wouldn't have minded them switching partners, because honestly, Olinsky is right. It's okay that they aren't partners. BUT I felt really bad for Jay when his desk got switched, I felt like that seemed unnecessary. And I wonder what the partners are going to be like when Burgess comes back (also, remember when Hank didn't allow two females to be partners...lol). My favorite two lines were "No, I mean I blew it with Erin," because YES YOU DID. But then even that, I felt like OKAY, SO GO FIX IT. And he hasn't yet. And then the last scene with Erin and Hank melted my heart because I just love their relationship.

Okay, and then onto Med: I really hated that they BLATANTLY used Jay to get Will and Natalie together with ZERO regard for Jay's actual character. Like as his brother, of course Jay would say no if he knew that Will liked Natalie. But CPD Jay would never even entertain the idea of dating her in the first place, and he would have turned her down because of ERIN! Like hello, he just said the night before in PD that he blew it with Erin. It's just #TwoDifferentJays and there's just NO consistency and it annoys me. But that being said, I am glad than Manstead is finally happening.

END OF RANT :) Oh except to say that next weeks PD episode looks INSANE. I'm very excited! But I also feel like they had a lot of loose ends to tie up (Hank being Erin's dad, Linstead, Bunny, etc.) and I feel like they're not actually going to. LOL, this is CPD after all ;)

And if you read this far, thank you for listening! Lol


	24. Chapter 24

Hope you all are having a great weekend :) Happy reading!

 **Chapter 24**

One of Brooke's favorite things in the world is to get dressed up for an event.

She would always start in a long, lavender scented bubble bath, with a glass of wine in her hand, to help her unwind and get herself in the right frame of mind for the night ahead.

Then after a quick rinse in the shower, she would blow dry and curl her hair until she had loose curls that flowed past her shoulders.

Then, she would move on to makeup. She _always_ went with a dramatic eye on nights like these. They matched the drama she felt on the inside. The excitement. The anticipation.

And by the time she stepped into her dress, sliding the fabric over her black lace under garments, and slipped into her high heeled shoes, she always felt more confident.

She always felt ready to take on the night ahead.

But, of course, tonight was proving to be different.

The past two weeks she had been able to shove back thoughts of her apportionment. Or rather, she hadn't thought of her appointment _in relation_ to Jay.

But now, after her conversation with Haley, it was _all_ she could think about. How her appointment would impact her relationship with Jay.

Just like it had with Owen.

But just like with Owen, she couldn't, she _wouldn't_ push it off.

She wanted a family. And she wanted it _now._

Because she had wanted a baby for _years. And b_ ecause, really, she had waited long enough.

That was the reason for her move back to Tree Hill in the first place, because she had wanted to adopt a baby. She wanted to take a child who had no love in their live, a child like she had been, and make everything _better_ for them.

So, she had fostered Angie. And then she had fostered Sam.

And the days those two girls walked out of her life were two of the _worst_ days of her life. They were worse than the day she had been attacked by Xavier, worse than the day she had been drugged by the photographer, worse than the day she found out Lucas had been seeing Peyton behind her back. They were even worse than all the heartbreak and all the pain that surrounded her relationship with her mother.

And so, she had decided that she couldn't adopt again. She just couldn't set herself up for another wave of that kind of devastation.

So instead, she had decided she wanted to get pregnant on her own.

But then, she found out she wasn't going to be able to get pregnant. And _that_ day... well, that day soared to the top of the list. It was, hands down, the most devastating day of her life.

But then Haley had found the two best infertility specialists in the country that had agreed to see her, that thought maybe, just _maybe_ they could help. One in New York City.

And one in Chicago.

So, her mind was full of the pending appointment, the potentially pending conversation with Jay even as she got into her bubble bath with her glass of red, even as she blow dried and curled her hair, even as she swept the liquid liner across her lids and carefully applied the mascara to her lashes.

It wasn't until she took out the dress from the long black garment bag that she finally let herself relax. To _enjoy_ the moment.

It was a never before seen, Brooke Davis original. A silver dress, the color reminiscent of the one she had designed in Paris.

She was going to open another location of Clothes over Bros, and she was going to do it _without_ her mother.

Just like she had that night in Paris, she was going against her mother.

She was taking her life into her own hands.

 _Finally_.

And she was going to thrive.

As soon as she slipped into the silver dress and fastened the buckles on her strappy heels, she heard the knock at the door.

Her breath hitched, knowing she was about to see Jay. She missed him, and it hadn't even been a full day since she'd seen him last.

She rushed towards the door and the minute she laid eyes on Jay, standing there looking _unbelievably_ sexy in his suit, she realized why she was feeling so uneasy since her conversation with Haley.

Looking into his blue eyes, knowing she was the reason behind his amazing smile, she realized what it was.

When Owen left, she had gotten over it. She had barely even cared. Because she hadn't wanted a family _with_ Owen, she had wanted a family _and_ Owen.

But Jay...

Well, Jay was _everything_. She and Jay... they could _have_ everything.

And they could have it together.

And if she told him and he decided that he didn't want that, or he didn't want it _with_ her... well, maybe _that_ day would top the running list.

Maybe that day would become the number one most devastating day of her life.

Worse than all of the rest of them.

0000000000

"Wow," was the only word Jay could come up with when Brooke opened the door to her apartment. "You look..." she looked _amazing._ "Wow."

She was _always_ beautiful, but she was also _always_ dressed up. Or at least compared to the women he worked with.

So he hadn't really been expecting her to look any different. He wasn't expecting her to look any _more_ beautiful than she did on a daily basis.

Actually, he realized, it's because he hadn't thought it was _possible_ for her to look more beautiful _._

But apparently it was, because _damn._

She didn't reply right away, and her head seemed to be somewhere else. He assumed she was probably just worrying over the event, so he stepped inside and leaned in to brush his lips against hers.

He noticed right away that she smelled as good as she looked.

"Everything is going to be perfect tonight," he said, trying to sooth any lasting nerves she might have.

At his words, she smiled her first real smile since he walked in, and it warmed him heart.

Brooke allowed her fear-filled thoughts to melt away at his words, and she leaned into kiss him again. "Thank you, Jay. I hope so."

"I _know_ so," he said, grabbing her hand. "Are you ready to go?"

Everyone was meeting them at the store a little early, at Brooke's request. She wanted to make a private toast before the store officially opened.

Apparently, _after_ the private toast Brooke and Jay were going to have to take the limo around the block and make an _entrance._ The idea was completely foreign to him, but Brooke had explained that it would be good publicity for the store.

And well, he couldn't say no to Brooke Davis.

"Yes," she said, her smile widening even further as she allowed her excitement to win out over every other emotion flowing through her body.

Because Jay was right.

She was about to open another location of Clothes over Bros, and she was going to do it with Jay Halstead on her arm.

Tonight was going to be perfect.

000000000000

"Before everyone gets here, I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all for coming," Brooke was standing near the check-out counter that was doubling as the bar for the evening, with a glass of champagne in her hand.

She was looking out at some of her favorite people in the world.

"Some of you have been here from the beginning," she said, tears slowly filling her eyes as she looked over at Haley, her best friend in the world. "When I was just designing clothes on my couch, because I was heartbroken and angry at the world."

She paused, trying to compose herself before she continued, not wanting to ruin her makeup this early in the night. "Some of you have just come into my life," she turned and smiled at the Intelligence Unit, who were holding up their own glasses and smiling at her.

"And already," she continued, this time turning towards Jay who was standing next to her, her voice even raspier than usual, "You've become so important to me."

She paused when he smiled at her, and for a moment it was just the two of them in the room, holding each other's gazes with electricity pulsating between them.

Thankfully, though, after a moment, she realized that they _weren't_ actually the only two people in the room and she continued.

"And so many of you have supported me along the way. Helping me pursue my dreams." Here she turned towards Hank, who was standing in a crisp suit, his arm in a sling, looking just as strong as she had ever seen him.

"So tonight is about me honoring all of you," she said, taking in the faces of everyone else standing in the crowd. Clay with Quinn, Alex staring at Atwater, Sam with Jack.

"So thank you," she said, finally. "And cheers!" She allowed her excited, high pitch squeal to return, earning a laugh from around the room.

As everyone took a sip of her champagne, she slipped her hand into Jay's, intertwining her fingers with his and squeezed it.

Then she lifted her own glass to her lips, reveling in the cold champagne as it traveled down her throat. By the time she finished her sip, Sam had walked up to her, hand in hand with Jack.

"Hi Brooke," Jack said, his voice a little more formal and a little more nervous than necessary. "Thank you for having us."

"Are you kidding?" Brooke replied, releasing Jay's hand and moving towards them to give them each a hug. "I'm just happy we are going to be living in the same place again. I've missed you."

Jay watched as Brooke wrapped her arms around Sam, hugging her just as fiercely as she had on that first day.

And all of a sudden, a thought drifted into his head.

Sam had been Brooke's _foster_ _daughter._

She had _fostered_ a child.

Five years ago. When she was 22.

 _Why?_ He wondered.

"And you're wearing the dress," Brooke was saying, and Jay had no idea what she was talking about now, but he couldn't stop listening to her, couldn't stop _watching_ her.

Brooke was _radiant._ She was always radiant, but her love for her foster daughter seemed to bring out that light even more.

"I am," Sam said, smiling and brushing her fingers down the purple dress. "I barely squeezed myself into it though," she said laughing, "I guess I'm not 16 anymore."

"Oh stop," Brooke said, smacker her shoulder lightly. "You look fantastic."

"So," Sam said, her voice shifting a little lower and her face shifting towards Jay. "Jay, right?"

She allowed her eyebrows to rise, giving him a questioning stare, even though she _knew_ his name was Jay. She had spent hours with him in the Emergency Room as he stood hovering over her and Brooke nervously, protectively.

But that day he hadn't been holding Brooke's hand. That day he hadn't made it _obvious_ that he was completely in love with her.

"Yeah, it's great to see you again," he said. "And I'm glad it's under better circumstances this time," he added.

 _Me too_ , Sam thought. But she didn't say it, because she didn't want to get side tracked. "So, you're dating Brooke, then?"

He shifted uncomfortably at her stare. First Jamie, now Sam? What _was it_ about Brooke and these kids being _so_ protective of her. "I am," he replied, hoping his voice sounded more sure than he was actually feeling.

"And what? You saved my life so now she _owes_ you?" Sam hadn't _really_ brought out her angry teenager sass since _before_ she lived with Brooke, but she had it on reserve for special occasions. And even now that she was 21, she was pretty sure this counted as a special occasion.

Because Brooke had been hurt by a lot of guys, and Sam wasn't about to let another one hurt her, too.

And while she was actually _pretty_ sure Jay wasn't going to be one of them, she wanted to be _very_ sure.

"Sam," Brooke said, interrupting, or really, _saving_ him from interrogation. "We actually have to go," she said, gesturing her head towards the door. "But we will find you later, I promise."

"Fine, fine," Sam said, shaking her head. "But I'm not done with you, Jay."

But then Jay noticed that a small smile appeared on her lips, giving away that maybe she didn't _want_ to hate him, after all.

"I didn't think you were," he said, smiling back. "I'll be here all night."

000000000000

The party was in full swing, and Jay watched in awe as Brooke worked the room.

She chatted with people as she sipped champagne, her laugh rich and contagious as she helped women choose _handfuls_ of dresses to bring into the dressing room.

"Dude," Ruzek said, from his spot next to Jay. They were standing at one of the high top tables, seemingly reserved for men who didn't actually _want_ to shop but were happy enough to just watch the commotion. "This is insane."

"I know," Atwater agreed, "There are more famous people in this room than I've ever seen in my _life._ "

"Well," Ruzek turned to his partner, "I've noticed one famous person in particular who's seemed to have her eyes on you."

Atwater just laughed in response, knowing _exactly_ who his friend was talking about. "Well, _I_ noticed Kim is looking mighty fine tonight," he said, deciding to return the teasing.

Ruzek shook his head, because Kim in that red, bare-backed dress was _not_ a joking matter. "You and every other guy in this room," Ruzek answered, feeling slightly dejected.

"Come on, man," Jay said, finally deciding to join the conversation. "She's been stealing glances at you all night."

"You think?" Ruzek asked, feeling hopeful.

But before Jay could answer and say _Yes, you idiot_ , he heard his name being called and he swiveled around.

"Jay Halstead," she said, her voice slow and clearly full of surprise.

"Allie?" His eyes widened. He hadn't been expecting to see her here. He hadn't realized she was even in Chicago.

He hadn't seen her since that time last year that they had gotten a little too drunk at their neighborhood bar. "Hey," he said, trying to keep his voice casual. "I didn't realize you were in town. How are you?"

"I'm good," she said, nodding her head so that her blond pony tail bobbed with the motion. "You know, this doesn't seem like your kind of thing. At least not the Jay Halstead _I_ remember," she said, adding a slow smirk but then it widened into a smile. "Are you here for work?" She asked, motioning towards Ruzek and Atwater who were still sipping their beers at the high table.

"Uh, no actually," he said, suddenly feeling slightly uncomfortable. "I'm actually here with my girlfriend."

"Oh," she said, and he noticed the way she seemed to pout a little at that. He knew right away that that pout wasn't because she was _sad_ he was dating someone. She'd probably be happy for him, actually. They were friends, after all.

No, that pout was because she realized that their previous friends with benefits arrangement was no longer, and that tonight she'd be going to bed alone.

"I'm happy for you, Jay," she said, smiling softly and truly meaning it.

"Thanks," he replied.

"So, do I get to meet her?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows and slipping seamlessly back into friendship territory.

He was about to answer when he noticed that her eyes widened and shifted to someone moving closer to them.

He turned just as Brooke reached them.

"Hi," Allie said, her voice rising several octaves. "I'm Allie, I _love_ your clothes." There were so many people here, she hadn't realized she was going to get the chance to _meet_ Brooke Davis herself.

"Hi, Allie," Brooke said, reaching out her hand to shake. "Thank you so much for coming tonight, if there is anything I can help you find, I'd be happy to shop around with you!"

"That would be... _amazing,_ " Allie said, and Jay watched as her eyes widened in surprise, like she couldn't possibly imagine that Brooke Davis, famous fashion designer, could actually be _that_ nice.

 _Welcome to my world,_ he thought, as he remembered his first days meeting Brooke. How poorly he had misjudged her.

"Jay," Brooke smiled at him for a moment, and reached for his hand to squeeze it before she went to walk away with Allie. "I'll find you later, okay?"

"Wait," Allie said, stopping abruptly as she saw Brooke squeeze his hand. "Stop. Jay, you're dating _Brooke Davis_?"

"Uh... yeah." He began shifting uncomfortably, because both his _current_ girlfriend and his _ex_ girlfriend were both eyeing him in surprise. He took a momentary sip of his beer, hoping he could avoid their gazes without having to cast his eyes down to the floor.

"God, Jay," Allie said, her voice friendly and teasing, "You went for a _serious_ upgrade, didn't you?"

And _that_ caused him to choke on his beer.

He cleared his throat, but before he or Brooke could say anything, Allie continued. "I'm kidding, relax," she said, before turning to Brooke. "It's really nice to meet you Brooke. And Jay, it was really great seeing you."

"It was nice meeting you, too," Brooke said, her voice as gracious and friendly as ever. Even as her heart was beating rapidly on the inside.

When Allie left, she turned and looked at Jay.

She had _a hundred_ other things she needed to be doing.

She needed to walk around and speak to customers. She needed to make sure their was enough drinks at the bar, that the champagne was being adequately chilled. She needed to go back to the dressing rooms and compliment shoppers on their outfit choices, encouraging them to buy. She needed to make sure that the hired help was returning previously tried on and discarded items to the front of the store as quickly as possible, so another customer could find it and repeat the process again.

But she didn't do _any_ of that.

Instead, she turned to Jay and said, "So Allie was your...?" She allowed her voice to rise at the end of the sentence, signaling that she was waiting for _him_ to finish it.

"My high school girlfriend."

And at those words, her heart sank.

She tried to keep her voice casual as she asked her follow up question. "Why did you two break up?"

She _hated_ herself for asking that question, and in _that_ way, with no preamble. It was the opposite of casual, and her insecurities were definitely _pouring_ out of her, landing all over the freshly polished wooden floor of her store.

"It just ended," he said, shrugging his shoulders in a casual gesture. "You know," he continued, "The way high school romances do."

They had spent their junior and senior year dating, but by the summer, they had realized that they enjoyed having someone to spend prom and graduation with more then they actually _enjoyed_ each other.

Not that they didn't _enjoy_ each other now and again, but it was definitely different. It was a friendship, and it was comfortable; the physical act just a manifestation of years of knowing each other, of not really caring to spend the night trying to flirt and woo someone else.

"Right," she answered, immediately, knowing that's what she was _supposed_ to say.

 _Supposed_ to feel.

But she couldn't help the way her heart continued to sink, plummeting past her stomach until there was just nowhere further for it to go.

 _You know. The way high school romances do._

 __Except, _no._

She didn't _know_.

The only high school romances she knew were intense and long lasting.

There was Nathan and Haley, who, two kids later, had built an unbelievable life together, intertwining two demanding careers and making it look effortless and beautiful in the process.

Then there was Peyton and Lucas. They had been undeniable, even when the two tried to drift apart, they just _couldn't_. They may have even dated others seriously, but deep down they had always known. Brooke had always known. Those two were meant to end up together.

So, no. She didn't know. She didn't know how _it just ended. You know, the way high school romances do._

And as she stared off at the beautiful blond who was sipping champagne in a way that looked sophisticated and effortless, but casual at the time, her heart sank even further.

What if _she_ had his heart?

What if he had given it to her years ago, and the PTSD and the fear that had settled in had kept him from going back to her.

She couldn't do _that_ again. She couldn't take her time to heal someone's heart, to help them get through the worst times of their life, and then watch them turn around when they finally got better, and leave her all alone.

Just like she had done with Lucas when he had been mourning the loss of Keith.

Even when the _love_ didn't last, she realized, the hurt was still intense and long lasting. It had been that way with her and Lucas. _That_ love had left her feeling heartbroken and empty.

 _Long_ after it was over.

No. She couldn't do that again.

Because as she stood here, staring into his deep blue eyes, looking more amazing than she'd ever seen him, she knew that this time would be worse.

 _Much_ worse.

Because she was pretty sure she was falling in love with Jay.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

Also, I have a two day exam this week (eeeek) and as much as I love to write to procrastinate studying, it's officially crunch time lol. So thank you in advance for your patience :) Also, thank you for your reviews, they really make my day!


	25. Chapter 25

Hi all :) Happy Friday! So glad this week is finally over lol. I hope to have another update for you this weekend since things have calmed down a little :)

Also, as always, my thoughts on this weeks episode are at the bottom! It contains manyyyyy spoilers, so don't read it if you haven't seen the episode! :) xoxo

 **Chapter 25,**

"Brooke," Brooke had been saying goodbye to the last of the patrons, sending them off with their Clothes over Bros shopping bags in hand, nervous and excited to check what inventory had sold, when she heard Hank Voight's gravelly voice from behind her.

She turned towards him and noticed right away that he looked exhausted. "Hank," she said, smiling. "Thank you so much for coming tonight." It meant so much to her that he had come, barely 48 hours since being released from the hospital.

"Are you kidding?" He said, a slow smile of his own spreading across his face. "I wouldn't have missed it." He may have watched her career grow from afar, checking on her through tabloid magazines and occassionally checking in with Lorraine, but seeing it with his own eyes was really something else. "You did good, kid," he said, truly meaning it.

The scared little girl he had met in New York had transformed into an amazing woman. He knew he really had Lorraine to thank for that - Camille's friend that had allowed Brooke to move in with her until she got on her feet - but he also liked to think he had _a little_ bit to do with it. "I'm really proud of you."

"Thank you, Hank," she whispered, her raspy voice full of emotion. He couldn't know how much those words meant to her.

Words her mother had never been able to say, not in all the years and all the openings.

She wanted to say more, but her throat felt clogged and heavy, and she could tell by the look on his face that she didn't need to elaborate anyway, that he already knew.

So instead, she moved towards him, and gave him a hug. Even with her avoidance of the his that still rested in the sling, the hug was comforting and genuine and she closed her eyes momentarily, basking in it.

For all she knew, she may not have sold a single couture piece tonight, Jay may be in love with his high school sweetheart, and her mother may walk in tomorrow and try to take this all away.

But for one moment, and one moment only, she could float above it all.

She could call tonight a success, because Hank Voight was proud of her.

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"Brooke!" Kim's voice squealed loudly above the casual conversations in the store. All of the patrons and guests had emptied out, and it was just the Intelligence unit and Brooke's Tree Hill friends left in the large store. "This was _amazing!"_

Brooke smiled at her, but Kim was surprised when she saw that it was a quiet, _nervous_ smile.

Jay was surprised too, but then he had noticed that Brooke had been acting weird since the conversation with Allie, so he reasoned that _may_ have something to do about.

Haley wasn't surprised though. "Well?" Haley said, holding her breath as Brooke rounded the long the counter that hid the cash register and computer. "How'd it go?"

"What are you talking about?" Quinn said to her sister, her eyebrows rising in confusion. "Did you _see_ how many people were here?"

Of course, Quinn hadn't been there for the Tree Hill opening, so she didn't understand. The whole _town_ had turned out for that opening, but it hadn't been a successful night for Brooke. Her _bitch_ of a mother had stocked the store with every couture piece in the collection, each dress priced at _well_ over $500, and not a single piece had sold. She had sold some scarves, a few accessories, and she had given away _several_ dresses to her close friends, but it _definitely_ hadn't been a successful night of business.

Haley had been there, though. So instead of answering Quinn, she stood in the center of the store, in her little black cocktail dress and bright red lipstick, with baited breath.

Brooke took a deep inhale and shook the mouse of the computer, waking it up, as everyone stared on.

The minute the screen illuminated, her eye squeezed closed.

"Brooke?" Jay said her name tentatively, looking between her and Haley. He wasn't sure what was going on right now, and he definitely wasn't sure what he should do in this situation.

If the opening had gone badly, should he signal for his friends to leave? Should he signal for _her_ friends to leave?

Should _he_ leave?

But then she opened her beautiful hazel eyes, and he saw the tears in them.

And even though he had only known her two short weeks, right away he knew they were happy tears.

"I sold _over 100_ couture pieces." Brooke said. Her voice had an air of confusion, and she seemed completely dumbstruck. "I don't believe it," she whispered to no one in particular.

"I believe it," he said, immediately. Then he moved towards her, slowly walking around the long counter top and finding her behind it. "I knew you could do it, baby," he said, smiling wide at her and taking her into his arms. "I'm so proud of you."

There was that word again, she thought. _Proud._

Once again, she found herself in the arms of a man who was proud of her.

And once again, she closed her eyes and revelled in the moment.

When Jay finally released her, he bent down to kiss her.

His lips were soft against hers, and the kiss was slow and tender and _amazing_ and she wanted to _kill_ Ruzek for clearing his throat and bringing her back to reality.

But then she saw the excited look on her best friend's face, and she smiled. "I sold over 100 pieces!" She repeated, this time in a _very_ high pitched squeal, and then she began jumping up and down on her skinny high heeled shoes.

She came around the long counter and was met with congratulations and cheer from all of her friends. Old and new.

And all the while, Jay's hand was wrapped in her own.

She wasn't sure this night could get any better.

0000000

But all too quickly, her insecurities settled back in.

It was Haley's fault, Brooke realized. And not just because she had brought up the appointment. Although, that definitely wasn't helping matters.

Once Haley had brought it up, once she had put _Jay Halstead_ and _Fertility appointment_ in the same thought, Brooke had started to _think_ about it.

She had started to _wish_ about it.

But actually, that wasn't the primary reason.

No, that wasn't it at all.

Everyone had finally said their goodbyes, but Haley and Nathan had been the last to leave. They had reminisced for a little, telling Jay a few decently harmless stories about Brooke and her life in Tree Hill, and then they had made plans to meet up for a late brunch the following day.

Brooke wanted a chance to see them one more time before they had to leave, and _evidently_ Jay wanted one more chance to impress Jamie.

She had actually laughed out at that as she beamed at Jay, and she allowed that to warm her heart. But then when he sent her his token grin, she let the warmth spread through her entire body, _very_ ready to take him home.

But then as they were all about to leave, Brooke witnessed a private moment between Haley and Nathan.

Nathan asked her which dress she had decided on, and Haley had just flashed him a grin and a wink. His eyebrows rose suggestively in response, and he whispered something in her ear. She laughed, shook her head, and blushed in a way that told Brooke _exactly_ what Nathan had said.

Then Nathan leaned over and kissed her, before grabbing her hand and racing for the door in a way that made them look like a couple of teenagers who just _needed_ to get home and tear their clothes off each other.

It was remarkable, Brooke realized.

Ten years later, and they looked at each other the exact same way they had in high school.

She remembered them staring across the basketball court at each other, Nathan winking to her as he shot free throws, Haley cheering on the sidelines.

The attraction, the _spark_ they had had in high school may have grown into a deep, everlasting love, but it had also stayed. They were just as in lust as ever, maybe even more.

Brooke realized that she _desperately_ wanted that with Jay. So much that it kind of took her breath away.

 _But what if he wants that with Allie?_ she thought, and the heart that had just warmed began to sink.

Jay stood watching Brooke watching Haley and Nathan, and he noticed the melancholy expression that had transformed her face as the pair left the store. He wasn't sure what had caused the drastic change in mood, but he moved towards Brooke, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and settling his head down on her shoulder.

"Hey, baby," he said. Now that he had started using that word, he really couldn't get enough of it. He _loved_ that Brooke Davis was his baby. "Ready to go?"

She seemed to shake off the mood, turning in his arms and pressing her lips against his as she nodded in agreement.

But the mood seemed to return in the car.

He didn't understand. The opening of her store had been _a huge_ success.

She looked unbelievable in her form-fitting silver dress, she had sold more couture dresses in one night than in any other opening, and evidently, she had also gotten great press for the store.

 _What gives?_ He thought, as he turned on his blinker and signaled before switching lanes across the highway.

He reached his hand out and rested it on her knee, touching the warm bare skin that wasn't covered by the silver knockout of a dress. "Tell me what's wrong," he said, and he realized the words came out more as a statement than a question. He squeezed her knee tenderly, hoping the statement wasn't too harsh.

He heard her sigh loudly, like maybe she didn't want to tell him.

And he could understand that. Throughout the past month _everyone_ had asked him _What's wrong?_ and he had never, not once, answered anyone truthfully.

Some things were just too hard to talk about.

"You don't have to," he continued, after the silence seemed to stretch out interminably.

She sighed again, but this time she shook her head and responded. "Can we talk about it at home?" She asked, in lieu of a response.

"Of course," he answered, immediately. There it was again, though. _Home._ She hadn't said _my home_ , but can we talk about it _at home._ He was pretty sure he was reading too much into her phrasing, but he needed _something_ to hold onto when he saw the sad expression that was still present on her face.

Usually, Brooke loved having serious conversations in the car. She actually preferred it that way.

Not having to look at the other person while you spoke was usually _very much_ her style.

But not with Jay. She wanted to look into the deep blue oceans that were his eyes when she said what she had to say.

Because she knew she would be able to tell right away if he was telling the truth.

Or if he was lying.

She hadn't _wanted_ to know that Lucas had been lying. When he had said he loved her, that he _didn't_ love Peyton, she had seen it in his eyes. But then, she had pretended she didn't.

That was around the time she had started having her serious conversations in the car. That way she didn't have to _see_ it. The lies. The _I love yous_ that really meant _I love her._

But this time was different.

This time, for better or worse, she had to know.

00000000

Jay noticed that Brooke seemed to lose her nerve as soon as she walked into the apartment.

"Brooke," he said softly, noticing how her shoulders seemed to tense the further into the living room they moved. "We don't have to talk about it tonight," he said, reaching for her hand. "Whatever it is, I don't want to ruin this amazing night for you. You should be so proud of yourself, Brooke." He paused her a moment, before adding, "Your talent kind of takes my breath away."

 _You take my breath away,_ she wanted to answer. Because he really did.

She allowed herself a small smile as she settled down on the brand new couch that had been delivered to her apartment just the day before. "I... um..." She couldn't figure out how to string the words together, but she knew it would be easier if Jay was closer to her. His warmth _always_ brought her strength. And so she motioned for him to join her on the couch.

When he settled in, she tried again. "Do you remember when I told you I've only been in love once?"

"Yeah?" He asked, and suddenly it dawned on him. The reason Brooke was so upset. "He cheated on you, right?" He said, his voice soft. "Brooke, you have to know, I would _never_ do something like that to-"

She shook her head, cutting him off, "I know, I know," she said. She had only known Jay for two weeks, but already she seemed to know that about him. For some reason, she felt absolutely confident that he wouldn't cheat on her. He wouldn't go behind her back like that.

That wasn't the problem at all. "It's not that he cheated," she closed her eyes for a monent, trying to find the words to explain.

"Okay?" He said, dragging out the word to form a question when she didn't immediately continue.

"It's just, he told me he loved me," she forced herself to keep her eyes on his, to gauge his reaction in real time. She couldn't, _wouldn't_ stick her head in the sand again. "And I think he really thought he did," she shook her head lightly, thinking of Lucas professing his love to her in the rain, "He wasn't a bad guy."

He still didn't understand, but he held her gaze. He laid his hand over her knee once again, feeling the warmth of her skin against his palm, waiting for her to continue.

"It's just that he gave his heart to Peyton before he even met me," she whispered, hoping he would finally understand.

 _Oh._

Jay was pretty sure he was beginning to. "Brooke, listen to me," he began.

But she just continued, wanting to get everything off of her chest once and for all before she lost her nerve. "What you said before," she said, not acknowledging his interruption. "That your relationship just ended, the way high school relationships do," she shook her head, "Nathan and Haley got married at 17, she had Jamie the day of our high school graduation. Lucas and Peyton, they have a daughter and she's pregnant again." She smiled at that last part before continuing, "I've never known high school relationships to end."

"Brooke," Jay said, his voice coming out a little stronger and harsher than he meant. It was just that she didn't need to spell it out for him, he understood.

She had seen him and Allie having a casual and comfortable conversation, and then she had watched Haley and Nathan, two high school sweethearts, leave the party wrapped in other's arms like two people more in love than anyone had a right to be after 10 years of marriage.

"Listen to me." He repeated, and this time he had her attention.

"I never _loved_ Allie like that." he admitted.

He shook his head, trying to search for the right words to explain. "I didn't grow up like you did," he said, knowing her childhood was a sore subject but needing to bring it up anyway. "I wasn't forced to grow up way too young, and way too quickly."

Well, that wasn't entirely true. The day his mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, he had grown up pretty fucking fast. But he was in his 20s by then. "Allie and I..." he shook his head, momentarily regretting phrasing their names together like that. "We went to school dances together, we hung out together, we paired off because that's just what you did."

He shrugged his shoulders again, this time hoping his expression would explain more than his words.

When she didn't seem entirely convinced, he added more. "I never felt about her the way I already feel about you."

At his words, at the earnest look in his eyes, she drew in a sharp intake of break. Suddenly, she could feel her heart beating rapidly again her chest.

Slowly, he moved his hand from her knee to her cheek and she immediately leaned into, seeming to melt into him.

"Really?" She whispered, still holding his perfect blue eyes. Still wanting to make sure this was still real.

"Really." He said back, and then he leaned his head forward and kissed her ever so slowly before pulling back once again. "I promise you," he said, as he rested his forehead against hers. "I'm not going anywhere."

This time when he kissed her again, Brooke smiled into it.

Because she had been wrong before.

This night _could_ get better.

And it just did.

00000000000000

"Good... morning... baby..." Brooke said, alternating one word with one kiss, trailing her lips slowly up his neck to his jaw.

"Mmmm," he sighed in response, still very much asleep. He opened his eyes as her lips finally finished their ascent and made it to his lips. "You're dressed?" He said, his eyes adjusting to the light and now widening in surprise.

He couldn't see the clock from here, but it _felt_ early.

"Yeah," she said, smiling sadly at the naked man in her bed. "I have to meet the caterers for cleanup this morning," she pouted. "I'm already late. I just wanted to say good morning and goodbye."

"This is the _second_ _morning_ in a row you're leaving me, you realize," he said, pouting right back.

"Oh, I didn't _realize_ you were so needy," she quipped, lightly smacking his bare chest and then leaving her hand resting against his warm skin.

"Yes, well, now you know," he said, not even bothering to deny it. "I _need_ you here." He placed his hand over her own and gave her a _very_ dirty smirk. " _Naked_."

She let out a laugh, and pressed another kiss against his lips. "How about you go back to sleep for a couple hours, and I'll try to cut out early. I'll meet you back here before brunch with Nathan and Haley."

"Here?" He raised his eyebrows, as he gestured towards the mattress in question.

She sent him a smirk, making sure he knew _exactly_ what she meant.

"Okay," he finally conceded, knowing if Brooke was late for work, there was no way he was going to win this argument. Even if he was _pretty sure_ he could make it worth her while.

But she was as dedicated to her job as he was to his. Maybe even more.

 _Wait,_ he thought, as he crinkled his eyebrow. "Why isn't Cara going in?" Isn't that why Brooke _paid_ Cara?

"Because it's Sunday morning, and Cara worked all day yesterday," Brooke said, as she began to wiggle out of his embrace and stand from the bed. She still had to find a pair of heels to go with this dress, and she was offically running _very_ late.

"So did you," he replied, confused. "And you were there a lot later than she was."

"Yeah, but it's my company," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "It's my responsibility. Plus, she has two kids at home. I can't take over her _whole_ weekend with them."

 _Well, there she goes again_ , he thought. Not a spoiled brat celebrity at all. But a dedicated, hard worker; one who _really_ cares. "You're amazing," Jay replied, completely in awe of her.

"Thank you?" She raised her eyebrows, slightly confused at his change in direction.

"You're welcome," he said, a smug smile falling on his lips. "Now go," he said, gesturing towards the door. "The sooner you leave, the sooner you can get your sexy ass back in this bed."

00000000000

Jay tried to go back to sleep after she'd gone, but of course, he couldn't. Ever since his time in the miltary, he'd rarely ever been able to sleep late. And once he was up, he was most definitely _up._

So he decided to brew himself a cup of coffee. Except, of course, when he made it to the kitchen, he remembered that Brooke didn't have _regular_ coffee. She had fancy Espresso machines that foamed milk in a way that semed _way_ more complicated than necessary.

He moved towards the fridge, looking instead for a glass of orange juice.

He wished he could run out and get himself a cup of coffee somewhere nearby, but he didn't have a key to get back in. Brooke should really give him a key.

Except, were they ready for that?

 _Yes,_ he realized. He _was_ ready for that.

He had meant every word he had said to Brooke the night before.

Later, in bed, as they laid there naked and wrapped in each other's arms, he had probed further and she had given him the longer version of the Lucas Scott - Peyton Sawyer - Brooke Davis love triangle.

She had explained that she helped him through something awful. That his father had _shot_ and killed his Uncle - side note, he _really_ needed to go read this book Lucas had written - and that Brooke had helped him through it.

She had put her own needs aside to help him - which now, knowing Brooke, didn't surprise him at all - but then, after she had stood by him and helped him mourn and grieve and find a way to get past it, he had left her.

That's when Jay _really_ understood.

Because the night before her opening, she had put everything aside to help Jay through his nightmare. She had held him, and cried for him, and had taken his pain away with her shear presence.

 _That_ was the type of person she was for the people she cared about.

And she was scared it was all going to happen again.

Maybe she would help him. Maybe she would help him navigate the years of trauma he had left boxed up, that he had never been able to deal with.

Maybe she would help him find a way through.

But even if that happened, and he was starting to realize it probably would, he knew that this time, the outcome would be different.

Because he _wasn't_ going to leave her.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the landline ringing. He wasn't sure if he should pick it up, but reasoned that no, he probably shouldn't.

No key, no phone answering, he decided.

And so he let it ring, four long rings until the answering machine on the side table came to life. "You've reached Brooke Davis. You know what to do."

He smiled at her adorable voice, the way he could _hear_ her smile as she spoke.

But then his smile fell as a voice came over the line.

"Hi Ms. Davis, this is Beatrice from Chicago Fertility. We are just calling to let you know that Dr. Avery had a cancellation for tomorrow morning, and we would be happy to move your appointment up a few days if you would like. It's a longer appointment slot, so we would be able to discuss your plans for IVF _and_ go over the protocol for sperm donation. Since it's Sunday, just leave a message on the answering service. Before noon if you can! Thank you, Ms. Davis. Looking forward to seeing you soon."

 _I'm sorry. WHAT?!_

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review!**

Okay SO MANY thoughts on the episode, and they are kind of all over the place, so my apologies in advance.

First, let me just start off by saying, I am a _huge_ Hank Voight fan, so I really really enjoyed every single scene with him in it. I loved the scenes with him and Erin, I love that he went to her apartment, that he does everything in her best interest (at least in his opinion), and that last scene in his office literally melted my heart.

That being said, I'm extremely disappointed that they didn't address the storyline about Hank being her father. When Bunny brought up her father to Erin, that would have been the perfect opportunity. But sadly, opportunity lost and I'm betting it won't come around again.

And then there's the situation with her and Jay. Right from the get go, I had a feeling he either going to propose. But I LOVED that scene with him and Will and I LOVED that he admitted that she's all he thinks about. That felt like a huge step, and so I was so optimistic! (PS. I'm waiting at a sushi restaurant for my take-out, so this is way longer rant than usual because while I am EXTREMELY worked up over he episode, I am also very very bored lol).

But I really feel like they ruined it. I hate that Erin is DEFINITELY going to leave to go to New York without talking to Jay. And while I do think she will be coming back next season (more on that in a second), I think it will be a huge time jump, and the whole Linstead proposal will be long over. Maybe Jay will even me dating someone (because the writers hate us).

Okay so the reason I think Erin is coming back is that that was NOT a proper sendoff. Which leads me to Matt and Gaby.

I actually think Matt probably IS leaving. Because THAT was a proper sendoff. It was completely heartbreaking. And also, the whole episode leading up to it, I had a feeling he was going to die. Because he put Gaby over his job, and he made that whole speech, yada yada. It's like in Grey's with Meredith and Derek. The writers always put the couples on solid ground and make everything even better than usual right before killing them off.

So Erin is NOT gone, because 4 seasons of building up Linstead, and they're not just going to tear it down like that. At least I hope (because really, the writers do actually seem to hate us, and there's a new show runner next year).

Last thing I forgot to add - I LOVED protective Jay. His sass was at a new level, and that scene with him and Bunny in the interrogation room was by far my favorite of the whole episode.

Okay, food is ready :) Have a good evening all! Thanks for reading!


	26. Chapter 26

Hi everyone! I know, I know, it's been way longer than usual since my last update. I've been crazy busy, BUT my schedule should be way better now and I will be updating more regularly :) Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story!

And since I haven't updated since the whole "Sophia Bush leaving CPD" rumors started, I added a few thoughts on the bottom. LOL :) As per usual, I can never just keep my mouth shut lol.

Since it's been forever, I'll start with: _Previously on chapter 25..._

 _But then his smile fell as a voice came over the line._

 _"Hi Ms. Davis, this is Beatrice from Chicago Fertility. We are just calling to let you know that Dr. Avery had a cancellation for tomorrow morning, and we would be happy to move your appointment up a few days if you would like. It's a longer appointment slot, so we would be able to discuss your plans for IVF and go over the protocol for sperm donation. Since it's Sunday, just leave a message on the answering service. Before noon if you can! Thank you, Ms. Davis. Looking forward to seeing you soon."_

 _I'm sorry. WHAT?!_

 **Chapter 26,**

He left then.

He turned towards the untouched cup of orange juice on the counter, and suddenly, his need to splash some vodka into it became overwhelming. And, well, he wasn't going to do _that_ at 8 in the morning, so at the very least, he decided he needed a cup of coffee.

He slowly poured the orange juice down the sink, careful to rinse away any evidence of it's existence, and then washed and dried to the glass, replacing it in the cupboard before moving towards the large front door.

He didn't have a key, and once he shut the door behind him, heard the click of the lock, he knew he wasn't going to be able to get back in.

But at the moment, that suited him just fine.

So many thoughts were swirling around his head, and he was struggling to organize them. He couldn't think clearly, couldn't measure which emotion was most overwhelming.

Was it shock? Shock that Brooke had even made an appointment with a fertility specialist in the first place. That she had needed an extra long appointment to discuss sperm donors?

No, he realized, that wasn't it. Because even though he had never thought _too hard_ about Sam and Brooke's relationship, he had, in fact, done the math. He knew that Brooke had fostered Sam when she was only 22 years old. That she had already felt compelled to be a mother at that young age. And he had seen her interact with Sam since, and he knew that need to mother her hadn't faded with time.

So if it wasn't shock, was it hurt? What he hurt that Brooke hadn't thought to mention this _very_ important appointment to him?

That _could_ be it. After all, he had just been sitting around her apartment, roaming the contents of her fridge, daydreaming about her giving him his very own key to her place. And if he was being _completely_ honest with himself, he could admit that the night before, after they had talked about what had been lacking in his past relationships, he had fallen asleep daydreaming about _a_ _lot_ _more_ than just a key.

So, yes, maybe that was it.

But then, he realized, there was also fear.

And that was, more than likely, the strongest, most overwhelming emotion.

Fear that she would ask _him_ to be the father, instead of a random stranger that she picked out of a large sterile binder.

He may have had an unbeliavable mother, but in truth, he had one of the worst examples for a father. What type of father could he be? What type of father _would_ he be?

But then, there was also the fear that she _wouldn't_. That maybe she wasn't ready to make what they had _permanent._

But then, as he stood in line at the closest Starbucks and ordered a _venti_ coffee, because it was already turning into _that_ kind of day, he considered that further.

If she _was_ ready to make this more permanent, was _he?_

He waited for his coffee then, hoping that the first sip of the hot liquid would clear the fog that had settled in his brain and give him an ounce of clarity.

He wasn't surprised, though, when it didn't.

00000000000000

When Brooke returned home from the store, she found Jay leaning against her door, staring off into space and sipping from a large Starbucks coffee.

She had a flash of disappointment that he was waiting, fully clothed, against her door instead of waiting, completely naked, in her bed, but at the look on his face, she brushed away that throught completely.

He seemed to be concerned over something, _upset_ even, the way his eyebrows were crinkled ever so slightly giving him away.

"Hey," she said, smiling easily at him, hoping not to startle him. At the sound of her voice, the crinkle in his eyebrows seemed to vanish, and that caused her smile to widen. "Couldn't figure out how to use the Nespresso?" She raised a teasing eyebrow at him as she moved past him to unlock the door.

"I'm a simple man," he replied, shaking his head lightly, and following her into the kitchen.

She filled the milk frother, determined to impress him with her fancier, _better_ version of morning coffee. "I told you, this stuff with change your life," she said, turning and leaning her back against the counter as she looked at him.

"I think you might have to find someone else's life to change," he said, smirking and shaking his head at her as he began to move towards her.

"But that's the thing," she said, meeting him in the middle of the kitchen. "I don't think I want to."

She had meant the words as a joke, a retort to his clear dismissal of her excessively fancy black coffee machine, but they hadn't _come out_ as a joke. Instead, they came out breathy and low, raspy and _honest._

Because it was true. She _didn't_ want to.

She didn't want to find anyone else. _Ever._

"Good," he whispered back before pressing his lips to hers. He seemed to understand her message, because this kiss, this slow, passionate kiss in the middle of the kitchen, seemed more intimate, and more tender than any of the previous kisses they had shared.

And it didn't escalate. It didn't turn into something more, he didn't thrust her against the wall of the counter and tear away at her clothes.

Instead he melted into her embrace, slowly carressing her face as if he wasn't sure she was even real. It was the type of kiss that tore down every defense she had ever had, and shred them to nothing.

And when he pulled his lips away but kept his face close, he peered into her eyes with so much wonder and affection she almost let the words slip. She had _wanted_ to let them slip.

 _I love you._

But she didn't. But not because she _didn't_ love him, because actually, she was pretty sure she did.

And it also wasn't because the thought that had suddenly blossomed shocked her. In fact, at this point she had gotten over the shock, and she had embraced the intensity of her feelings towards him.

However fast and recklessly her feelings may have developed, she knew they were more real than any feelings that had ever come before.

So that wasn't it either. Instead, the reason she held in the words was because in the moment, in _this_ moment, she didn't think it _needed_ to be said.

In her relationship with Lucas, they had seemed to use the words _I love you_ to hold on to each other. To convince each other of their devotion, even when it wasn't _actually_ true. The words had been there when the feelings weren't.

And so, just this once, she wanted to let her feelings speak for themselves. She wanted the words to come later.

000000000

"Okay," she said, sighing loudly as she watched Jay take his final sip of his freshly crafted mocha latte. " _Fine._ "

"Fine, what?" He asked, genuinely confused and she moved towards him and motioned for his empty mug.

" _Fine_ , I will just have to buy you a simple man coffee maker," she said, as she lifted his mug and moved towards the sink to rinse it out. "That way," she continued, facing away from him, hiding her face as she let out the next part, "You won't have to sneak out for Starbucks and stand waiting for me at the door."

"You _could_ do that," Jay began, and she could hear him coming up behind her even before she felt his arms wrap around her waist. "Or you could just give me a key, and I could let myself back in."

He said the words casually, but with his chest pressed up against her back, she could feel his heart rapidly hammering against his chest and it gave him away.

The fact that he was just as nervous as her made her heart flutter and gave her strength. She turned around, finding his lips once again. "How about I do both," she said, giving him her best smile.

And this time, their kisses _did_ escalate. Within minutes they were panting against each other as he carried her into her bedroom, both of them tossing pieces of clothes along the way.

00000000000

"Shit," Brooke said, scrambling up in bed a little while later. "What time is it?"

Jay stretched his naked torso and shifted on the bed until he could see the time illuminated on the bedside clock. "Shit," he agreed.

They both moved quickly, throwing on their clothes and reaching for their things. "I'll text Hales," Brooke said, "We're not _that_ late."

Jay couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him, or the smile that rose as he watched a _very_ flustered Brooke Davis trying to shimmy into a dress that she had yet to notice was inside out. "We're pretty late, babe," he said. But instead of moving to put on his shoes, he moved into kiss her. "But I think it was worth it," he whispered against her ear.

The goosebumps that erupted on her skin, and the slow smile that spread on her lips was response enough for him.

Together, they moved down the hallway in search of the phones they had abandoned in the kitchen before furiously moving into the bedroom. As they passed the side table, Brooke noticed her answering machine flashing.

"Oh, hold on a sec," she said, casually, moving to press the button. "Let me just make sure this isn't important before we leave."

Jay stopped in his tracks, the thoughts that he had been pushing _way_ down suddenly sprouting to the surface.

Over the years, he had become _excellent_ at pushing thoughts away. He had buried things for minutes, hours, days, and even years, ignoring them until he was forced to bring them out again.

This time it hadn't even been difficult. He had left the coffee shop, and his legs had just _taken_ him back to Brooke's apartment. As if they had, quite literally, a mind of their own.

And when she showed up, looking unbelievably beautiful in the same sleeveless, form-fitting purple dress she had been wearing the first time he had laid eyes on her, his shock, and hurt, and fear had fallen away.

One look into those beautiful hazel eyes and _everything_ had fallen away.

But now, they were flooding back, and he had to make a split decision.

"I'm just going to run to the bathroom," he said, moving his feet in the opposite direction. "Be back in a second."

He propelled his body down the hallway as fast as it would allow him, while trying to keep his demeanor as casual as possible. And when he closed the door to the immaculately decorated bathroom, he allowed himself to sink onto the closed toilet seat, his head resting in his hands.

He _knew_ he was hiding.

He just couldn't be sure exactly _what_ he was hiding _from._

Was it because he didn't want Brooke to feel _forced_ into telling him? If she heard the message with him sitting idly by, he could already imagine her reaction. Her cheeks would flush pink, and she would immediately try to explain. What explanation she would have, he had no idea, but he was _pretty sure_ she would try something.

But it would be a quick, likely _thoughtless_ excuse.

He wanted her to tell him when _she_ wanted to tell him. When she had prepared. When she had found the exact words she had wanted to say.

And maybe, just _maybe,_ by then, he would be prepared.

He would find the exact words _he_ wanted to say.

That is, if she gave him a chance to say anything at all.

0000000000

"Hi Ms. Davis, this is Beatrice from Chicago Fertility. We are just calling to let you know that Dr. Avery had a cancellation for tomorrow morning, and we would be happy to move your appointment up a few days if you would like. It's a longer appointment slot, so we would be able to discuss your plans for IVF and go over the protocol for sperm donation. Since it's Sunday, just leave a message on the answering service. Before noon if you can! Thank you, Ms. Davis. Looking forward to seeing you soon."

The minute Beatrice's voice came over the answering machine, Brooke's eyes darted down the hallway. She noticed right away that her bedroom door was closed, that Jay was safely behind it, and _well_ out of ear shot.

At that, she couldn't decide if she should be relieved or disappointed.

She had spent the entire morning working at the store with Haley's question floating in the back of her mind.

 _Are you going to tell him?_

She realized that yes, she _had_ to tell him. The more important question was when.

When, and _how._

So she had spent the morning alone in the store, cleaning up after the caterers and cataloguing the remaining merchandise, thinking about how on earth she was going to tell him.

And, all the while, she tried to force herself _not_ to think about how he was going to react.

After some time, she had found the words. She had practiced them in her mind, and then out loud, until they felt familiar on her tongue.

But then on her drive home, she realized she hadn't considered how to bring it up.

So a not so insignificant part of her wished that Jay was standing right next to her. That the topic of fertility and babies would be broached without prompting from her. That his eyebrows would shoot up in question and that she would be immediately forced to explain.

Because really, how else could she bring it up?

 _Jay. I know we've only known each other a week and this is probably not something you want to think about right now, but I want to have a baby._

Or, she could always go the Owen route. What was it she had said to him? _I never asked you to_ be _the father._

Except, of course, that wasn't right either. Because, Jay _wasn't_ Owen.

How about: _Jay. I am completely in love with you, and I've already imagined what it would be like to go through this with you._

No. That _definitely_ wouldn't work.

She pressed the button, halting the secretaries calm voice and saving the message, and allowed her eyes to drift back to the closed bedroom door.

And when she saw the door open, saw Jay glide through, his blue eyes calm and clear on hers, she realized she was in fact _relieved_.

Because this wasn't a conversation she should be having impulsively. She had made enough impulsive decisions in her life, and even though this didn't _feel_ like one, she should probably let it rest a little longer.

"Ready to go?" She heard Jay's voice as he moved closer.

She flashed him a smile and a nod, threading her fingers through his when he finally reached her. "Ready," she replied.

Then, she let out a sigh as they moved towards the door.

Yes, she was _definitely_ relieved.

Because really, she wasn't going to go Owen-style on this one. She wasn't going to try for detached and _uncaring._

Because actually, she cared _a lot,_ and so on second thought, this was going to be a _much_ longer conversation.

And well, right now, they were already late for brunch.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

As for the Sophia Bush leaving Chicago PD - Obviously I hope it isn't true, but I also wasn't THAT surprised when I read about it.

My biggest problem is that - just like I said in my previous comments about the finale - her story feels so unfinished. People die all the time in these shows (MerDer in Greys), or huge relationships that people shipped end (Izzie and Alex in Greys - lol, so many Greys examples), and we are able to move on and even root for them to be with someone else. But usually there is so much more closure, and I feel like Erin just didn't have that.

I was actually thinking though, maybe the writers were mad that Sophia wanted to leave. Maybe they decided to make her story unfinished so that the fans would be mad at her for leaving the show, because _they_ were mad. Because as much as we all love the show and will probably continue watching, shows often fail after _the_ main character leaves. Especially when the other characters aren't enough of a story to sustain the show. Like I like Upton just fine, but she was _just_ introduced, and even though they are trying to give her some mystery and backstory and she _definitely_ doesn't seem like she's going anywhere, I don't think she is going to be able to replace Erin in the fans.

I don't know - maybe I'm just reading too much into it, but it was just a thought. I really can't think of another instance in TV that I watch that a character had such an unfinished, unremarkable ending. I mean look at Matt Casey - that ending was beautiful and we're not even sure he's gone!

Also - total side note, CPD's facebook/twitter hasn't posted a picture of Erin really since the finale, but in the past week they posted a picture of Burgess and Upton, and I feel like that's who they're planning to focus on next. :/ Ugh. I hope I'm wrong!


	27. Chapter 27

So I considered not posting this chapter until tomorrow, because I'm not going to be able to update again until this weekend and I wanted to space the chapters out (some people thought I abandoned this story, I promise I didn't!) but then I got too excited not to post lol. I love a good angst filled chapter.

So I hope that's okay lol :) Happy reading!

 **Chapter 27,**

She didn't take the appointment.

She told herself it was because she had a meeting with Macy's about a potential partnership with the stores, and that she just didn't want to push it off.

And really, that was _mostly_ true. She had been diligently preparing for this meeting for quite some time; it had been the reason she'd been sketching designs all week, even as she had other things to do in preparation for the store opening.

But if she was being honest with herself, _really_ honest, that wasn't the _whole_ reason.

She just wasn't prepared to go to that appointment without having talked to Jay first.

She wasn't prepared to open a white binder that listed page after page of sperm donors, listing their height, weight, educational background, and all of their attributes like they were competing for a prize.

But it was more than that.

After these past few weeks with Jay, she was beginning to feel like only half of a much greater whole.

And she just wasn't prepared to walk into the expertly decorated fertility center without the other half, the _better_ half of her by her side, without his hand to hold as they poked her arm with another needle, as they pressed the ultrasound hard and uncomfortable inside her.

She wasn't prepared to go alone.

But she also wasn't prepared to talk to Jay.

At least not yet.

And so she had stepped away at brunch with Haley and Nathan, pretending to go to the bathroom so she could return Beatrice's call and let her know she would prefer to keep her Wednesday appointment instead.

Even though it was shorter. Even though she wouldn't be able to obtain all the information she really wanted in the short allotment of time.

But then, as luck with have it, a young nurse named Chantal answered and offered her a differenttime slot, the _following_ Monday. She said that couple was available to transfer their appointment to this Monday, leaving their existing time slot open.

And that meant she had five _additional_ days before she had to speak to Jay.

And by then, she would _definitely_ know what to say.

Right?

00000000

Brooke may not have taken the appointment, but Jay didn't know that. He couldn't bring himself to ask her, and she clearly couldn't bring herself to tell him.

And so Sunday night, as he held her close and stared down at the sleeping form in his arms, he couldn't help but find himself completely heartbroken.

He was shocked by the overwhelming sadness and devastation that seemed to spread to every part of him, draining him of energy while simultaneously keeping him awake.

He hadn't realized how much he had wanted her to share everything with him.

He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he knew that they would talk it out together, and that everything was going to be fine.

After brunch, he had waited all day, all _night_ for her to bring it up.

But then she didn't tell him, and then she drifted off.

And then it was Monday.

And then it was Tuesday.

And then it was Wednesday.

And then it was Thursday.

And as they spent every night together, he let his mind justify her silence, and then he let his mind rationalize her silence, until he had himself convinced that it was better that she hadn't said anything at all.

Because really, he wasn't ready to be a father.

And everything _was_ moving really fast.

Yes. That was exactly right. _She_ had been exactly right.

It was he who had been wrong.

God. What _had_ he been thinking?

00000000000

"Good morning," Brooke padded slowly down the hallway into the kitchen on Friday morning, still in her deep grey silky robe that only barely covered the lingerie she had slipped back on the this morning from the place it had been laying inside out on the floor.

"Good morning, beautiful," Jay said, as he lifted the steaming mug of coffee away from his lips and placed it on the counter. He left it there momentarily, moving to meet her at the doorway.

Jay leaned down to press his lips against hers, and she sighed into it. "You're already dressed," she pouted as she pulled away slightly, her hands still resting on his strong arms.

"If it's any consolation," he replied, as he brushed the silk robe off her shoulder and fingered the thin black strap that laid across her collar bone. "I _really_ wish I wasn't."

Before he could stop himself, he bent down and touched his lips to where his finger had just been. Then, because now he _definitely_ couldn't stop himself, he trailed kisses up her neck as she moaned quietly against him.

"Me too," she breathed.

He lifted his head momentarily, checking the time on the clock. He had ten more minutes left in his morning routine before he would have to sling his badge over his neck and holster his gun on his hip before exiting out of her front door.

 _Well,_ he considered, _this would certainly wake me up more than the coffee._

His lips found hers then, and as their kiss grew more intense, he lightly shoved her back against the counter. Within seconds, he had pulled back her robe until it fell to the ground.

 _Holy shit,_ he thought, as he looked at her. The tight black lingerie she had surprised him with the night before was even better in the light. The way it hugged her curves so perfectly, the way her soft skin showed only slightly through the black lace, giving him just a hint of something more.

 _She really is the hottest fucking girl I've ever seen._

He remembered the first time he had had that thought. It had been the first time he had laid eyes on her in the bullpen, and it had been followed by an eye roll and irritation.

Then he remembered the second time he had had that thought. It had been the first time they had slept together, when he had laid her down on the bed and peered down at her sprawled beautifully across his queen-sized bed.

But now, he realized, she had become so much more than that. She was beautiful and sexy and hot as fuck, for sure. But she was also kind-hearted, and gentle, and strong, and sarcastic, and funny, and _amazing._

How was it possible that he had gotten this lucky?

"Aren't you going to be late?" She panted, but there was no conviction behind her words. She was too busy getting lost in his eyes, in his touch. The way he looked at her, his blue eyes as piercing as they were soft - well, she was sure she would _never_ get enough of it.

"Maybe," he laughed gently against her, and she felt the scruff of his day old beard scratch against her inner thigh as she licked his way down her center.

But then, she didn't care if he was late.

She didn't care about anything but pulling the belt from his pants, unbuckling his jeans, and feeling his whole body wrap around her.

Because that was favorite part.

Because even more than this, even more that the way he was currently _owning_ her body with his tongue, she just loved when he wrapped his body - hard, but also warm and protective - around her, and allowed her to feel completely safe. Safe enough to completely let go and enjoy every minute with him.

Safe enough to block out the world.

000000000000

It was Sunday.

It had crept up on her, and before she knew it, she was back in the same position.

And once again, Brooke found herself the night before her doctor's appointment, unprepared to have this conversation with Jay.

He had cooked her dinner for the first time, learning his way around her kitchen the way he had learned his way around her body: quickly and masterfully.

And it had been delicious.

Throughout the night, though, the casual conversation, the _domesticity_ of it all astounded her. She had known this man three short weeks and it was like she had never _not_ known him.

She could barely remember what it had been like to come home from a long day of work and have him _not_ be there.

And she loved it. She loved it _so_ much.

And she _really_ didn't want it to change.

"What's on your mind, baby?" Jay's voice broke through the thoughts that were richocheting around her brain, dragging her down further and further. She was almost relieved at the interruption, even if it meant she had to finally tell him.

But then she noticed that his face had grown concerned, and she realized she must have been showing more emotion on her face than she realized.

"Nothing," she tried to say. Even though they both knew _that_ wasn't true. "Nothing," she tried and failed again to make it sound convincing.

"You can tell me," he said quietly, and then he reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. "You don't have to, but you can."

God, how did she get this lucky. This man was so fucking perfect and she knew she was about to ruin it.

She was going to have a Jay shaped hole in her front door because when she said what she was about to say he was going to run for the hills.

She forced herself to do it anyway. _Now or never, Brooke. Now or never._

"I fostered a baby," she said, her voice louder than she had planned. "Before Sam."

It hadn't been the way she had _intended_ to start this conversation, but the words just kind of tumbled out of her before she could stop them.

She paused for a long time, and Jay must have thought she was done speaking because he shifted his head slightly, raising a questioning eye brow at her. _Is that all?_ He seemed to be asking.

"Okay?" Jay dragged out the word in question, but actually that _wasn't_ what he was asking. He already _knew_ that wasn't all.

He knew she was going to tell him about her appointment on Monday. She was going to tell him that she picked a sperm donor, she was moving forward with IVF, and then she was going to give him the classic line of _you can be as involved as you want._

 _Just get on with it then_ , he thought.

But then she spoke again.

"It was a temporary thing," she continued, finally finding her words. "Her name was Angie. She needed a surgery to fix her heart, and she lived with me until the doctors were able to operate on her."

 _Wow._ _Just wow._ She never ceased to amaze him with her goodness, he realized.

But before he was able to say as much, she continued.

"It was supposed to be an audition type thing, so I could foster a child of my own," tears filled her eyes when she remembered the day she had to let her go. The feeling of standing in the airport, all alone, completely bereft.

"I wasn't supposed to get attached," she continued, but her voice broke at the words. "But when I handed her over to the social worker..." her voice trailed off, and she once again met Jay's comforting gaze. "I didn't think it was possible for a heart to break like that," she confessed in a whisper.

"I can't even imagine," he said, as he lifted his hand to her chin. As was becoming their thing, she leaned into his hand, pressing her weight against it and melting into it as he held her there. "I'm so sorry, Brooke."

They stayed like that for a moment, but then she forced herself to move back, because she couldn't stop now.

She couldn't get lost in his eyes just yet.

There was a lot more story to tell.

"When Sam went to live with her birth mother," she shook her head and sighed. "That was the day I knew I had fostered my last child. I couldn't..." she choked back a sob, hating how emotional she was getting already.

Goddamit, she _hated_ that she was _such_ a crier. "I couldn't go through it again."

She just kept giving pieces of her heart away, and while she had been shocked at how her heart had been able to heal, she knew the cracks would always remain.

"So I decided I wanted to get pregnant on my own," she continued.

She watched his expression then, and realized he didn't seem all that surprised.

"But then, I found out I can't have children," she whispered the last words, revealing the biggest secret of all, and _that's_ when the surprised registered on his face.

"What?" He couldn't help the question that bubbled out of him. Was _that_ why she was rushing to do IVF right now? Because she was worried she wouldn't get another chance?

He knew he couldn't ask her those specific questions without revealing what he knew, so he hoped she would answer them without his prompting.

"I've wanted a child since I was 21 years old," she said, answering his questions without even realizing. "I had a shitty..." she shook her head once again, "Well, you know all about my childhood," she finished, not wanting to get into _that_ again.

"I've always wanted a family. A _real_ family," she explained. "And when I was younger, that meant parents and siblings." She shook her head, as if to say _that_ was never going to happen. It was too late for that.

"But at some point," she said, her hazel eyes still focused on Jay's blue ones. "That shifted for me."

"I want my own family," she whispered. "I want a baby of my own."

She let that sit, letting it hang thick between them, forcing herself not to continue until he spoke.

Until he said _something._

 _Anything._

"When did you find out you couldn't get pregnant?"

 _Okay,_ she realized. _Not just anything._ Because _that_ was not what she meant.

But she forced herself to answer anyway. "Last year," she explained. "But then Haley found me a fertility specialist in Chicago," she revealed finally. "I have an appointment there tomorrow."

 _What?_ He thought immediately. _She hasn't had her appointment yet?_

He had to physically force his lips closed, abstaining from asking her why she had pushed her appointment.

But then, he was pretty sure he knew.

"Do they think they're going to be able to help?" He asked, timidly. This time, because he really wanted to know.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to _be_ the father, but he did know that he _desperately_ wanted Brooke to be a mother.

Brooke Davis was _meant_ to be a mother.

Her kindness, her _goodness_. She should have dozens and dozens of children.

They'd be so unbelievably lucky to have her.

Just like he had been to have his mother. God, his mother would have _loved_ Brooke.

"I hope so," she whispered, and the tears that had been welling in her eyes finally fell at that moment.

They streamed down her cheeks until he swept them away with his finger, and then kissed them away with his lips. "I hope so, too."

He held her there on the couch for a long time, and neither one of them said anything.

But then at one point, she shifted back, and placed his hand in her own, leading him to her bed.

 _Coward,_ she told herself the whole walk back to the bedroom. _Coward, coward, coward._

She hadn't finished the conversation.

He had dried her tears and wrapped her in a tight embrace, and she hadn't gotten to the most important part.

She hadn't asked him to go _with_ her. To _do this_ with her.

But then, he hadn't offered, either.

And because of that, she found herself terrified of the answer.

But she was pretty sure she already knew. She knew the direction that this was all headed.

And so she just wanted to savor the moment.

She wanted to bask in the safety of his arms one more time.

Because there may not be a Jay shaped hole in her front door.

But she knew that it was only a matter of time before there was a Jay shaped hole in her heart.

 **xoxo**

 **I hope you enjoyed it! Please Review :) :)**


	28. Chapter 28

Hi everyone :) Sorry to make you wait with another cliffhanger. I know, I'm the WORST :) Also, I think this story is nearing the end :/ I've had the best time writing it, but I think it feels finished (almost, lol).

Usually around this time in a story, I've already decided on the subject of my next one. But for some reason, I'm having a little writers block. I would be happy to hear any suggestions. Or maybe I will do a few Bless the Broken Road one shots?

Let me know what you think, and happy reading!

 **Chapter 28,**

"Jay," Brooke whispered his name into the space between his neck and shoulder, her lips barely brushing against his warm neck as she spoke. His breathing had evened out almost an hour before, the rhythmic, slow rise and fall of his chest clear beneath her weight.

"Mmmm," he replied drowsily, barely awake. He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep for, how long _she_ had been awake for, but her breath tickling his throat as she spoke caused him to wake and open his eyes.

When he did, it took him several moments to adjust to the darkness of the room. "What's going on?" He breathed, keeping his voice low to match hers.

Of course, after the fog of sleep had cleared from his brain, he realized that was a stupid question. He _knew_ what was going on.

When she didn't answer right away, though, he wondered if she had fallen asleep. But after a moment, he felt it again; the brush of her lips against his neck, the soft whisper of breath on his skin as she spoke.

"I want you to be the father." Brooke rushed out the words, glad to finally have them out in the open. She had been counting down in her head for the last hour, _3, 2, 1, Speak._ She had been trying and failing to find the courage to say the words aloud. "That's why I told you," she whispered the second part more slowly, hoping, _praying_ he responded in kind.

But instead, she heard him take a sharp intake of breath, and let out a sigh, and then he didn't respond at all.

"You don't have to give me an answer now," she continued, filling the silence that had become thick and heavy in the room.

Except, she realized, she wasn't sure that was _actually_ true.

She had no idea how the timing of the IVF process worked. She had no idea if she was even _eligible_ for IVF. The doctor in Tree Hill had seemed to think she wouldn't be a candidate, at all. But then, she couldn't think like that.

She had done _some_ reading, and she was pretty sure that when, _not_ if, she started an IVF cycle, she would need the sperm 2 weeks later to fertilize her retrieved egg. On the one hand, that gave Jay 2 weeks to decide, but then, if he said no, how quickly could she get sperm from a sperm bank? Did they ship it? Did it come from across the country or down the street? How long did it take to thaw the frozen sample? Is that even how it worked?

She knew these were questions she would be able to ask the doctor tomorrow, and suddenly, she wished she hadn't brought this up to Jay until _after_ she had had her appointment, _after_ she had answers to these questions.

Then, maybe, she would have something more clear to offer him.

"At least," she finished, "I don't think you do."

She added that last part with the hope that he would _finally_ chime in, that he would _finally_ give her an answer.

But she was disappointed.

Instead, he just whispered, "Can I think about it?"

She noticed that his voice seemed calm, _stoic_ even. And she wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Or if it meant nothing at all.

"Of course," she said, trying for more confidence than she actually felt. "Of course," she repeated. That time, she was pretty sure she had managed to pull the confident tone off.

Confident. Breezy. Nonchalant.

Everything she wasn't _actually_ feeling.

She almost turned away from him, then. To give him the time he so clearly needed, to take the space she knew _she_ needed, but didn't actually want.

She almost curled up into a ball facing the opposite wall of the apartment. The wall of windows, which were currently uncovered by any shades, would calm her down. It would put everything into perspective, making her problems seem small against the immense backdrop of the city lights.

But before she had a chance, Jay spoke once again. "Okay," he whispered back, his voice also attempting a breezy and nonchalant tone.

Except, he, too, failed to pull it off.

This time his voice seemed to hold a mix of fear, trepidation, and was also _raw_ with emotion.

And the fact that he still cared calmed her down more than any skyline ever could, so instead of turning away, she stayed in the safety and warmth of his arms and allowed his breathing to lull her to sleep.

00000000000

The following morning, Brooke slipped out before Jay woke up. She scribbled a note on a small piece of lined purple paper from her _Clothes over Bros_ notepad, and left it next to his iPhone on the night table.

She knew she should wait until Jay woke up, to see if there was anything more he wanted to say, but for some reason she just couldn't. Conversations in the dark of night always felt _very_ different when they were cast in the morning light, and she wasn't sure she could handle it.

Plus, New York had woken up an hour before, and she had work to do.

She turned on the boring Cuisinart coffee pot, knowing it would make Jay smile when he woke up and saw his coffee already in the kitchen and waiting for him.

Maybe it would make up for the fact that _she_ wasn't going to be in the kitchen and waiting for him.

 _You don't have to have breakfast together_ every _morning_ , she told herself as she slipped on her brand new shoes and sipped her own coffee quietly.

 _Besides_ , she thought, _Your breakfast days with Jay are numbered. You both better get used to it._

She tried to shake that thought from her head, but it sat stubbornly at the forefront. Right between her eyes.

She closed her eyes, then, and marveled at how much her life had changed in such a short amount of time. Three weeks ago, she had closed her eyes and felt Xavier's hands tightening around her neck. She had heard his voice, felt the pain he had inflicted and the _fear_ he had instilled.

Now, when she closed her eyes, she still felt an overwhelming sense of fear, but this time she didn't see Xavier. She saw her _future._ She saw Jay. She saw everything she wanted and it finally seemed within reach.

She just hoped it didn't slip away.

00000000

Jay sauntered into the kitchen nearly 30 minutes later, knowing he wouldn't find Brooke standing there waiting for him.

If his _complete_ avoidance of her question last night hadn't been clear enough, the note she had left this morning was.

It had been in her familiar scrawl, on the same purple paper she always used, but it had been _very_ different then her usual notes.

There had been no hearts, no _see you tonights,_ just: _"Went to the store early. Have a good day, B.D."_

 _B.D.?_

Since when did she sign her notes B.D.?

Even in her early text messages, she had signed off Brooke. But by now, she had stopped signing off at all.

That had always struck him as more intimate, anyway. Whenever his mother gave his father a card, whether it be for a birthday or an anniversary, or just a note left in the kitchen reminding him to bring something with him to work, she always signed it _Love, Me._

Because, honestly, who else would it be from?

God. He didn't need her to sign _B.D._

He knew who it was from.

 _Well,_ he thought. _That's what you get for not answering her question._

Except, he hadn't been prepared for her question. He _thought_ he had been. Even a week ago, he would have said he was ready for her ask that question, that he was ready and waiting with an answer.

But thoughts and doubts had wormed their way into his subconscious as the week dragged on, and by the time she had uttered the words, his own seemed to fail him.

He moved towards the coffee maker, and smiled when he saw a second note by the already full machine, his first real smile of the day.

" _Good luck with your new partner today. I bet he's going to be great._ "

This one had no signature. No sign off. No _B.D._

And this one was so much more personal. She had remembered.

 _Of course she remembered,_ Jay thought, as he slipped the note in his pocket and then reached for a mug and began to pour. _Of course_ she had.

That was what was going to make her such an amazing mother one day.

It was the thing that already made her the best girlfriend he had ever had.

 _Fuck,_ he thought, as he took a tentative sip of his coffee. _I can't lose her over this._

000000000

"Fill these out," Beatrice handed Brooke a stack of forms the size of a college application, and that was _on top_ of all the forms she had already sent in from her previous physician in Tree Hill. "And bring them back when you're done."

"Okay," Brooke said, taking the binder and the blue pen before finding her seat in the waiting room. Even though the stack was huge, she finished the paperwork quickly, citing the same information she had hundreds of times before. Age at first period, last menstrual period, sexual history, medical history, family history, etc., etc., etc.

It was only a matter of minutes before she handed back the binder and waited for her name to be called.

The waiting room was elegant, tasteful, and calming. It was _exactly_ the type of place she had imagined, only better. Instead of having to stare at magazines with pregnant women or babies on the cover like she had in her Ob/Gyn's office, there were fashion and lifestyle magazines, news and gossip magazines, cooking and decorating magazines, and several best-selling books.

As she sat there nervously, her knee bouncing up and down, she tried to distract herself. She picked up the latest edition of B. Davis magazine and placed it on the top of the pile. Because, well, estranged or not, she was _still_ her mother's daughter.

"Ms. Davis." A nurse appeared at the front desk, and Brooke immediately recognized the name on her nametag as the same woman that she had spoken to the week before. "My name is Chantal," she said, "I'll be your nurse through this process. You can follow me."

She was older than Brooke expected, but her voice was warm and smooth as honey, and immediately put her ease. She brought her into a small room that seemed more akin to a room you might see a therapist in, rather than a patient room in a doctor's office. There was no examining table to sit on, no stirrups to put your feet in, no curtain to undress behind.

Instead, Chantal motioned for her to sit on the large couch, and she sat opposite her in a comfortable looking blue chair. "We have a few tests we like to run straight away," she explained, "But then we will bring you back in here, and Dr. Lincoln will come in. He'll explain the whole process, and then when she's done, I'll come back in and we'll go over everything again." Her smile was warm, and Brooke found herself relaxing slightly.

She wasn't _completely_ relaxed, but this nurse's quiet, calm demeanor was going a long way. At the very least, she had lost the need to fidget, her bouncing knee now resting still.

"Okay," Brooke replied, a smile of her own finding it's way to her lips.

Chantal motioned for her to get up and follow her. She directed Brooke to phlebotomy, another room that looked a lot _less_ sterile than it had in her Ob/Gyn's office. Then, she directed her to a fancy, over the top bathroom so Brooke could retrieve a urine sample.

The whole process took only a few minutes, and soon she was back on the couch, sitting alone and waiting for Dr. Lincoln to arrive.

 _Alone,_ she thought. _Alone._

It was her least favorite word in the dictionary, and she had never felt it more acutely than she did right now.

Because for the past three weeks, she had felt so _far_ from alone.

And now that the feeling was back, it didn't feel like the familiar old friend it was. Instead, it felt _awful._ It felt more heartbreaking and isolating and terrifying than it ever had before.

Could she do this? Could she do this _alone?_

And just like that, the nervous bounce in her knee returned.

0000000000

"Halstead," Voight's voice bellowed across the bullpen, unneccesarily high considering Halstead's close proximity to Voight, who was standing at his office door.

Jay stood immediately, moving towards his Sergeant. Voight had been in his office with the door closed for quite a while with a young, male detective who was _presumably_ going to be Jay's new partner.

"Detective Jay Halstead," Voight said as soon as Jay passed through the threshold. "This is your new partner, Detective Kenny Rixton. Go, show him around."

Voight gave Jay a glare that said _Do_ not _screw this one up,_ and Jay nodded his assent. "Yes, sir."

Then Jay turned to his new partner, taking him in. He looked a little scruffy, his dark brown hair overgrown slightly, his facial hair clearly a few days without a trim, his black leather jacket old and worn.

Jay reached out his hand to shake it, and took note of Rixton's firm handshake, the way he maintained eye contact the whole time, strong and confident. There wasn't a trace of fear in his eyes, instead he had that hardened look about him.

The same one Jay saw in the mirror those first days after he had returned from Afghanistan.

Jay liked him already.

"Come on," he said, nodding his head towards the door. "Let's go."

Taking Rixton around and introducing him to the rest of the team, Platt, and the other uniformed officers in distrct 21 caused a much needed distraction throughout the morning, but as the clock ticked closer and closer to noon, Jay found his mind drifting back to the appointment.

Brooke's appointment.

Brooke's appointment where she was going to pick a sperm donor.

A father for her child, that _wasn't_ him.

The thought was starting to make him physically ill.

He tried to shove the thought away as he showed Rixton the interrogation room, as he set him up with a locker, as he showed him the cage.

But it was still there. It was _always_ there.

The intensity of the thought kind of shocked him. He had _always, always_ been able to shove personal thoughts away. He had been able to bury things, and bury them _deep._

It was one of the things that had made him an excellent soldier. It was the thing that made him an even better detective.

But for some reason, today, it wasn't working.

The thought wouldn't stop nagging at him. Even as he continued to tell himself that he was doing the right thing.

Brooke had wanted this since she was 21. In truth, she had probably wanted it even longer than that.

And they had known each other three weeks.

He couldn't jump into this with her even if he wanted it. What if it didn't work out?

What if his involvement tainted this beautiful thing she had planned to create completely by herself?

 _But what if it does work out?_

 _What if it makes it more beautiful?_

 _Stop._ _Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop._

 _You can't to ruin this for her._

And so it went. His thoughts going back and forth, swirling around and around in his mind, until the clock struck noon, until he couldn't take it anymore.

He excused himself for a moment, and moved towards the locker room, collapsing on the bench the second he walked into the room.

The same bench he had found Brooke sitting on, heartbroken and crying over Sam, before he had pressed his lips against hers and started it all.

If he could go back, would he change it?

 _No,_ he realized. _Not a single thing._

He was surprised by how quickly that thought had come to his mind. Almost as quickly, he jumped up, and rushed for the door.

He finally knew what he had to do.

0000000000

"Ms. Davis," Dr. Lincoln walked through the door, and reached her hand out to shake Brooke's. She was short and thin, her blond hair clipped neatly in a low bun. Unlike any other doctor Brooke had come across throughout this process, she wasn't wearing a white coat. Instead, she was wearing a plain, but flattering brown dress and low-heeled shoes. She looked young, put together, and as warm as Chantal had been.

Brooke knew right away this was the right place for her. This is where she was meant to be. These were the people that were going to help her become a mom.

"My name is Dr. Lincoln, and we have a couple things to discuss," she continued.

"We do?" Brooke was confused by her tone, by the words Dr. Lincoln had spoken before she had even fully stepped through the door or sat down on the couch.

"We do," she nodded.

Then she sat down and voiced the words that would change Brooke's life forever.

00000000000

"Stay in the car," Jay said, as he shifted the government-issued car into park and pulled the keys from the ignition. "I'll be back soon. My phone and radio are both on."

"Okay?" Rixton said, eyeing Jay suspiciously. "This a doctor's office."

Even though he said the words as a statement, Jay knew he meant them as a question. "I'll explain later," he said quickly, not wanting to take the time to explain. At least not now. Then, he opened the car door and shuffled out.

He rushed through the lobby, finding the Chicago Fertility on the directory by the door, that listeed the names of each specific office in the building full of medical offices.

It was on the fifth floor.

In a flash, he was by the elevator, pressing the elevator button repeatedly, as if pressing it again and again would make it move faster, even though he knew better.

After an eternity, the door finally opened. But _of course_ , it managed to stop on every floor between the lobby and the Fertility center.

Every. Fucking. Floor.

A few minutes later, he finally managed to find what he was looking for. He forced himself to calm his breathing, to slow his heart rate before he walked through the door.

"Hi," he said as he moved towards the receptionists desk. "I'm looking for Brooke Davis," he kept his voice low in the quiet waiting room.

The receptionist shifted her head, raising her eyebrow and giving him a confused stare. "Ms. Davis left 20 minutes ago."

"What?" _Why? What?_

That couldn't be. Her appointment was at 12. It was supposed to be a _whole_ hour long. She had taken the longer appointment so she could get all of her questions answered.

Hadn't she?

He looked at his watch once again, verifying that he had the correct time.

She was supposed to be here.

She was supposed to be here for another 20 minutes.

His facial expression must have been an exact representation of what he was feeling inside, because Beatrice was now giving him a concerned look.

"Sir," she said, softly. "Can I get you some water?"

"No, thank you," he answered, immediately, _dismissively._

Water wouldn't help.

Nothing would help.

He was too late.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

And let me know your thoughts on my next project, lol :) Hope you're having a great week!


	29. Chapter 29

I hope this makes up for the cliffhanger I left you all with :) Hope you are all having a great week! Thank you so so much for the suggestions. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate the reviews and the positive feedback :) Life's been pretty stressful recently, and I feel so lucky to have all of your support!

 **Chapter 29,**

She ignored his calls.

Each time her phone vibrated on her coffee table, she looked down and saw his smiling face light up on her screen. But each time, she didn't answer, and after the third call, she turned her phone off all together.

She needed time. She needed a few hours to herself to think this through.

Well, she needed _more_ than a few hours, but knowing Jay, the _minute_ he got off work, he would be banging his fist against her door, demanding entry into her apartment. Because it _really_ wasn't like her not to answer.

She should've just answered, she realized. She could've acted casual, told him the appointment went fine, and then made an excuse for why he couldn't come over tonight.

He probably wouldn't have even argued with her. After the conversation last night, and the one that followed this morning, he probably wanted his space, too.

 _Damn it,_ she thought, as she turned her phone back on. That _definitely_ would have been better.

She considered sending him a text message, but opted against it, reasoning it would be too little, too late.

And really, the emotions of the day were finally wearing on her. She needed a break. So, leaving her phone in it's place on the coffee table, she stood up and moved towards her bedroom. She slipped out of her clothes and slipped on the navy blue Chicago Police Department t-shirt of Jay's. In a moment like this, she _really_ wanted his green ARMY t-shirt, the one with the tiny hole at the back of the neck, that had become her favorite. But Jay had worn it when he had gone for a run two days ago, and it had been soaked with his sweat afterwards, so it was currently at the bottom of her laundry bin.

Even if this t-shirt was only her _second_ favorite, it seemed to do the trick. She inhaled the smell of him and instantly relaxed. She slid slowly under the covers, and took a deep breath.

And then, she smiled.

 _Pregnant_.

She was pregnant.

Like, baby currently growing inside her uterus, pregnant!

Finally, finally, finally her dreams had come true. She was carrying a child of her own.

Her's and Jay's.

 _Jay_.

God. What on _earth_ was she going to tell Jay?

He had asked for more time. He said he had needed time to think.

How was she supposed to tell him that time had run out?

It would break her heart if he didn't want this. Or worse, if he _pretended_ to be happy about it, just because he knew _she_ was.

Because that would be so like Jay; the amazing, thoughtful, kind, generous man she had gotten to know over the past three weeks would, without a doubt, think of her first. God. He would probably be _thrilled_ for her when she shared her news.

But then hours later, as he tried to fall asleep with her nestled into the crook under his arm, the true meaning of this pregnancy would come to him.

Would he be happy? Would he be terrified?

Would he stay?

Or would he bolt?

Her head was spinning as she went back and forth, convincing herself he would be happy about it, but then letting the doubt sink in. Finally, she decided she would wait to tell him. She would wait until he told _her_ what he had decided about the IVF; if he wanted to be her partner in this, or if he was happier to stand by and let her do it without him.

Then, based on his answer, she would know what to do.

This plan, as absurd as it was, calmed her tremendously. Because, at the very least, she _had_ a plan.

So with that calming thought, she shoved her face into the pillow Jay had been sleeping on night after night and inhaled the scent of his aftershave. Then, she lifted the t-shirt to her nose, and inhaled his scent there, too.

And then, thinking of him, dreaming of the beautiful baby they had just somehow created together, she fell asleep.

000000000

She ignored his calls.

At first, he had been calling to see why she wasn't at her appointment. After the receptionist refused to give him any information, on the grounds of doctor-patient confidentiality, he had wanted to check in and make sure everything had gone okay. He was worried about her.

He had been upset when she hadn't answered, but he reasoned that depending on the news she received at the appointment, she may not be up for talking.

At that point, he had opted not to text her, instead giving her her space.

But then, the team had been talking about going to Molly's after work to get to know Rixton a little better, and to raise a glass to him for surviving his first day.

He wasn't sure she would want to go to Molly's, hell he wasn't sure _he_ wanted to go to Molly's, but Rixton _was_ his new partner, and so he felt slightly obligated. Especially considering he was pretty sure, well pretty _hopeful_ , that Rixton would stick. He was pretty perfect for this unit, Jay could already tell.

So he had called her a second time to invite her to come along. And she hadn't answered then either.

Then, after twenty minutes, he realized that he hadn't heard from her _all day._ It wasn't as though they texted nonstop throughout the day, both of them having jobs that kept them very busy, but they usually communicated at least a couple times. Even if it was just to check in about dinner, or plans for Jay coming over to her apartment later.

And on the occasions when he called her and she wasn't able to answer, she _definitely_ got back to him. Even if it was a text that said: "In a meeting, talk soon xo".

But today, there was nothing.

So that's when he called again.

And _that's_ when he started to freak out.

When his workday ended, he made an excuse and _bolted_ out of the bullpen. He felt a little bad about leaving his partner on his first day, but not _that_ bad.

Plus, he was pretty sure Rixton had been catching the nervous vibes that had been emanating from him since they left the doctor's office six hours before, because he was the only member of the team that didn't give him a hard time about his less than legitimate excuse.

He didn't care, though, because less than 15 minutes after his work day ended, he was standing outside her apartment door.

He knocked softly, trying to control his anxiety since he was about to be in her presence.

If the appointment _hadn't_ gone well, and _that's_ the reason she hadn't returned his calls, she was going to need him. There wouldn't be room for _both_ of them to be freaking out.

He steadied his breathing as he waited, but after several moments of her not answering, his anxiety returned full force.

 _Goddamit_ , he thought. _This is why I need a fucking key to her apartment._

He knocked again, and this time, it was more forceful; more of a incessant bang than a knock.

By the time she came to the door a few moments later, his nerves were so raw, he couldn't be held accountable for the words that flew out of his mouth.

"Where were you today?" He asked, his voice loud and urgent.

That wasn't what he had planned to say, of course, but it had just come out. Now, though, he noticed that she was rubbing and squinting her eyes at him like she had just woken up.

That's when his eyes roamed her body, and he realized she had _definitely_ just woken up. She was wearing his CPD t-shirt from the Academy, which fell halfway between her waist and her knees, and nothing else.

"What?" Her voice was a mix of sleep and confusion, and he instantly regretted his earlier outburst.

He moved past her, further into the apartment, until he found his way to the couch, steadying his breathing the whole way. It was only when he sat down on the couch that he noticed her phone resting on the coffee table. Out in the living room, _away_ from where she had been sleeping.

"I'm sorry," he said, because he really was. His mind had been playing tricks on him, leading him to the worst case scenario, and only now that he was sitting there could he own up to his fears.

He wasn't just worried about her not answering because she had gotten bad news. He'd been worried that she had left. That she had gotten said bad news, realized that as she no longer needed the fertility center, she no longer _needed_ to be in Chicago. And so she had picked up and left without so much as a goodbye to Jay.

It had terrified him to his core. And now that he was in her presence, staring at her bare legs crossed together and inches from his own on couch, he could finally allow himself to shove those fears away.

"What do you mean where was I today?" Brooke asked, clearly not letting his previous question go. She stared at him questioningly, and he considered, for a moment, giving her the speech he had planned.

But once again, the words he hadn't even known were there started to flow out.

"I went to your doctor today. I was a little late, but I had wanted to come with you to your appointment." She arched her eyebrow in surprise and opened her mouth to speak, but he continued to rush out his words.

"I want to do this with you," he said, lacing his fingers through hers and resting them on her bare knee. "I know this is fast, and crazy, and I know we've only known each other three weeks. But the thing is," he held her gaze, trying to use her hazel brown eyes as courage to keep going. To keep speaking the words that were in his heart.

"I love you," he finished, squeezing her fingers slightly between his own, hoping she could _feel_ his love in addition to hearing it.

He didn't miss her sharp intake of breath, or the way her eyes glazed over, or the smile that found its way to her lips.

But he continued speaking, wanting to get all of this out while he still had her attention. While he still had _his_ courage. "And I'm not just saying that because of our conversation this morning. I've wanted to say that a hundred times. A _thousand_ times," he shook his head with disbelief, as if he couldn't even believe it himself.

His voice grew quieter, "I think I loved you the first time I saw you," he gave her a bewildered grin before he continued. "I _know_ I loved you the first time I kissed you." That earned him a laugh from Brooke, and he took the opportunity to leave over and press his lips against hers, capturing them in a quick, but intimate kiss, before he pulled back to continue.

"Jay-"

"Wait, Brooke. Let me finish," he said. "I want to spend my life with you, and I want to have a _family_ with you."

When her eyes widened at that, he added, "And if you got bad news today, if _that's_ why you were gone by the time I got to your appointment, I just want you to know that I love you and we will find a way to have a family. Together." He sighed out a deep breath, signaling he was finally finished speaking. He was finally ready to hear what she had to say.

He had imagined every answer she could possibly have, and he was finally ready to hear which answer she chose.

"I'm pregnant."

Okay. Maybe he _hadn't_ imagined every answer. "You're pregnant?!" He couldn't stop the smile that spread wide on his lips. He jumped up, off the couch, and lifted her up along with him. "You're really pregnant?!"

"Yeah," Brooke whispered, her eyes full of tears, a smile of her own on her lips. "I really am!"

"We're going to have a baby!" He said, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her as tears started to well in his own eyes. "I can't believe it!" He released her then, and wiped his thumb over her cheek, capturing each tear before it fell past her chin. "How? How did this happen?"

They had never used condoms, but he had assumed she had been on the pill. Of course, now that he knew she _couldn't_ get pregnant, it was safe to say she was likely _not_ on the pill.

But if she couldn't get pregnant... "Wow. _Wow_."

"The doctor said sometimes it just happens." Actually the doctor had said a whole lot more than that. Something about diminished ovarian reserve, anovulatory cycles, rare occurences of ovulation, and other medical terms that she had barely even heard because her head had been spinning with the news.

"That's..." he paused, looking for a word that would capture all the emotions he was feeling in that moment. When he couldn't seem to find one, he finished with, "That's _amazing_."

"Are you happy?" Brooke asked, tears still welling in her hazel brown eyes. She hadn't let herself cry before, a _huge_ feat for her, and now it was like a dam that had broken. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to stop crying now.

She was just glad that this time, these were _happy_ tears.

Well, happy tears, and tears of immense relief.

"I'm _so_ happy, baby," Jay replied, with zero hesitation. He leaned in and kissed her again, this time more passionately than before.

He lifted her into his arms, and her legs wrapped easily around his waist, the way that had many times before. He carried her towards the bedroom, laying her down on the unmade bed she had vacated only 10 minutes before.

He broke their kiss only long enough to lift the oversized t-shirt over her head and fling it onto the floor, before attacking her lips again.

He removed his own shirt while she undid his buckle. When her fingers brushed against his erection while she was unzipping his jeans, he let out a loud groan. "Brooke," he sighed her name.

God, he was so in love with her.

Then, he kissed her mercilessly, slowly trailing kisses down from her neck down to the rest of her body. Then, when she reached for him, when she directed him slowly into her until he filled her completely, he allowed himself to bask in the feeling of making love to her - to the mother of his child.

"God, you're beautiful," he said. Because, really, she was even more radiant than he had ever seen her.

Then he slowly moved against her, achingly, beautifully slow, allowing the tension to build between them until they were both calling out each others names in ecstasy.

And when they were both finally sated, and sweaty, and smiling, he wrapped his arms around her and revelled in the feeling of just _holding_ her.

And when his hands found her flat stomach, they rested there, as if he was holding onto their baby, too.

"Jay," he heard her whisper. He opened his eyes, and found her staring up at him.

"Yeah?" He asked, worried for a moment, but not daring to move his hands, not daring to let go of her _or_ their baby.

Before she spoke, she lifted her head towards him until their faces were touching, and then she pressed her lips against his in an attempt to smooth the nervous crinkle between his brows.

"I just wanted to tell you," she said, kissing him again. "I love you, too."

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

I hope you enjoyed it :)


	30. Chapter 30

Hi everyone! I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a while, but it's not because I've lost interest in the story! I've had this month off before I start work, so I've been doing a lot of traveling and seeing friends and family and I've been crazy busy (finally in a good way!) :) I hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope to have another one up this week as well! Thanks for hanging in there and being patient with me :)

 **Chapter 30,**

"What are you doing?" When Jay had left the room merely ten minutes before, Brooke was almost completely packed and ready to leave. Now her suitcase - which was double the size of his and way too large for a weekend trip - was nearly empty, and she was pacing the lengths of her closet. He stepped inside the closet, which was larger than his own bedroom, and wrapped his arms around Brooke's waist to steady her. "Babe?"

"I just realized that none of the clothes I packed are going to work," she said, sighing loudly and dramatically. Then she wiggled out of his arms and began to rummage through the shelves of her closet.

"Why not?" He asked, even though he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

Brooke had been a little touchy about her appearance in the past few weeks, and it didn't matter how many times he assured her that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, she just couldn't hear it. According to her, she was in that stage _between_ looking normal and looking pregnant. According to her, people didn't think she was pregnant, they just thought she was fat.

It didn't help that Brooke had refused to share the news of her pregnancy with anyone and she was well into her second trimester. She was finally past the nausea, _thank god,_ but now her baby bump was slowly starting to come in. She was finally starting to realize that she wasn't going to be able to hide the pregnancy forever.

"Because I'm _fat_!" She said, indignant. "I'll have to wear dresses the whole time! None of my pants are fit me anymore."

Well, as far as he was concerned, _that_ was not a problem. "Baby," he said, smiling and wrapping his arms around her once again. "If it was up to me, you would _always_ , _only_ wear dresses." He slipped his hands down slowly past her waist until they reached the top of her thighs. "Do you remember that morning in the car? After I picked you up at the hotel?"

"You mean the morning you yelled at me outside the hotel?" She smiled, cheekily. "How could I forget?" She turned in his arms until she was facing him.

"Well, that day I was so damn happy you were wearing those black pants." He remembered that day like it was yesterday, not five months ago. "God, I was trying so hard to keep my eyes off your legs. To keep my _hands_ off your legs." He smirked at her, before continuing, "But now," he whispered the words as he lightly moved his hands up and down her thighs, "I can stare at them all I want."

God. How was it that he always knew what to say to make her feel better? She had been anxious and moody for the days leading up to this flight, and he always managed to keep her calm. "I love you," she replied, holding his gaze as she spoke. It didn't matter how many times she spoke the words, she wanted him to know how genuinely she meant them every single time.

"I love you, too," he replied. "And you know, after today," he gently touched her cheek. "Everyone will _know_ your pregnant." _And you won't stress out thinking people think you're gaining weight_ , he thought but didn't add the last part.

He didn't care if she gained weight. She could gain 100 pounds without being pregnant and he wouldn't care. And if he was being honest, he hadn't noticed a difference at all. And he was just looking forward to a time where her weight wouldn't be the focus of morning conversation.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to tell people?" she asked, doubt leaking into her voice.

"Brooke," he kept his voice soft but stern. "You're 16 weeks. You can't hide this forever." He stroked her face gently, before asking, "Don't you want to tell your friends?"

"But what if something happens?" She asked, repeating the same concern she had voiced many times before. The same concern that had caused her to not share her news at 12 weeks, when the doctor had encouraged them to tell their family and friends.

"Nothing is going to happen," he repeated the same response. The same response he had given her at 12 weeks, at 13 weeks, at 14 weeks, really at _every_ week since they found out she was pregnant, but still hoping that _this_ time she might hear him.

"How do you know?" She asked, once again. She hated being this vulnerable. She hated being this _scared_. But she couldn't help it. Everything she had ever dreamt of, everything she had ever wished her, had been handed to her on a silver platter.

She was in love with the most amazing man she had ever met. And she was pregnant with his baby.

 _Pregnant_.

It was just too good to be true.

"Because I know," he replied, before he pressed a kiss to her lips. "Because you deserve good things, Brooke Davis. Because you are finally going to get them."

She sighed, leaning her body forward and melting into his. "Okay," she whispered, finally. "We can tell them."

"Okay," he whispered back, his head buried in her hair, inhaling the scent. "Okay."

"I should probably finish packing then," Brooke said finally, moving back slightly but staying within the hold of his strong arms. "Especially if we are going to stop by the district before our flight."

First they would tell Hank. And then they would fly to New York and tell Nathan and Haley. She would spend the first day in business meetings, then they planned to go see Nathan play against the Knicks at Madison Square Garden, and afterwards, they would tell him and Haley.

"Good idea," he smiled, finally releasing her completely. He patted lightly on the butt before moving out of the closet, and towards his own bag.

"Oh, also Jay?" Brooke called, as he was zipping his small carry-on closed. "Did you pack a suit?"

His eyebrows shot up reflexively, even though she wasn't far enough in the room to even see. "A suit?"

"Yeah, a suit," she replied easily. "I forgot I was invited to a premiere on Saturday night." She had plenty of clothes in her office in New York to choose from, and she would likely wear something from the newly released fall line, because free advertising was _definitely_ a perk of going to these things. But she wasn't sure she had any suits in New York, let alone one that would fit Jay well.

"A premiere?" He asked, incredulous.

Sometimes he forgot just _who_ he was involved with. Ever since the early days he had just thought of her as Brooke. _His_ Brooke, _his_ girl. And, now more recently, the mother of _his_ child.

He seemed to forget that she was also _the_ Brooke Davis. Owner and founder of a very large, very famous fashion company.

"Yes," she said, moving out of the closet just enough to face him. "You have a nice suit," she said, remembering the perfectly tailored suit he had worn to her Clothes over Bros opening.

"I do," he said, dragging out to words so they lasted longer than two syllables should. "But it's not _here_." He motioned his hands to encompass her bedroom, her closet.

He may have a ton of stuff here, but he didn't have his suit. A few days after she had found out she was pregnant, she had cleared out space for him in the second bedroom closet. His girl had a _ton_ of clothes, and even after she cleared space for him, she still had about two-thirds of the second walk-in closet filled with her winters clothes.

Winter clothes that wouldn't actually keep her warm in Chicago winters, of course, but he would wait a little longer to tell her that. He would wait until after this 'I look fat' nonsense faded a little more.

"What?" She asked, confused. "Where is it? Shit. Is it at the dry cleaners?" She rushed out the words quickly, before he was able to correct her. "Damn it, I should have given you more notice. I just _completely_ forgot. This pregnancy brain thing is no joke."

"No," he replied, finally. "It's just at my apartment." He watched her eyes widen in surprise, as if she was just registering he still _had_ an apartment. He couldn't blame her, though. Sometimes _he_ forgot he had his own apartment, he spent so much time in hers. "Do we have time to stop by and pick it up on the way to the airport?" _Meaning, are you almost ready to go?_

"Definitely," she replied, forcing herself to turn around and rush to finish packing. As she took a patterned dress off the hanger, she was glad her face was hidden in her closet. Because for some reason, tears had arisen slowly in her eyes.

 _Damn hormones_ , she scolded herself.

It's just that she had been trying to find the courage to ask Jay to move in with her for weeks.

Well, _months_ really.

But every single time she chickened out.

For the same reason she kept chickening out when Jay wanted to tell people about the pregnancy.

Because it was all too much.

It was all too _good_.

And she had never been able to hold on to anything too good for too long.

And she was just waiting for the day that this proved to be no different.

For the day she asked Jay to move in, and he said no.

0000

"Ready?" Brooke laced her fingers through Jay's as they slowly ascended the stairs to the bullpen in district 21. She could tell he was nervous, and not just because this was the first personal day Jay had taken in over a year.

But she wasn't nervous at all.

She knew Hank would be _thrilled_. She had always known that he was never a fan of her bachelorette behavior, and since she had been back, he had made _several_ comments over Sunday night dinners about her _finally_ settling down.

Hank seemed lonely, she had realized that early on. The woman she had stayed with in New York had informed her when Camille had passed away, but Brooke hadn't realized his son was gone, too. She hadn't realized how much he was also in need of a family.

And she was happy that in the past few months, they seemed to fill that void for each other. He was the father figure she had always wanted. He was the daughter he had never had.

"Ready," Jay said, although his voice wasn't exactly steady.

"It's going to be fine," she said, happy to be the one to assure _him_ for a change.

"Yeah," he agreed, "It's going to be fine." _It's going to be fine_ , he repeated once more in his head for good measure.

"Dude," Ruzek called out the moment they finally appeared in the bullpen. "I knew you wouldn't be able to go a whole day without coming into work." Instead of moving towards them, he moved towards his partner and put his hand out.

"Damn it, Halstead," Atwater said, his voice full of irritation as he pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and handed it over to Ruzek. "You couldn't stay away for _one_ day? Pathetic," he muttered under his breath.

The laugh that bubbled from Brooke went a long way to loosen the knot inside Jay's stomach. "I'm not here to work," Jay clarified, unsure if that was a requirement for Ruzek to win the full twenty. "Just came to talk to Voight for a minute."

Just as he suspected, that earned a scowl from Ruzek as he passed the twenty dollar bill back over.

He laughed at the huge smile that came over Atwater's face. At least he made one of them happy.

They crossed the bullpen, and Jay knocked lightly on Voight's closed door.

"Come in," Voight barked, not even looking up from his desk.

"Hey, Sarge," he said. He somehow managed to finally keep his voice steady, even though his nerves were back full force.

"What are you doing here?" He said, but then he looked up and saw Brooke standing beside Jay in his office. "Hey, kid," he said, a smile appearing on his lips. "What are you doing here?" This time when he asked the question, his voice was softer and less accusing. He always had time for Brooke Davis.

"We have some news," Brooke said, knowing the news would be better coming from her.

Voight just raised his eyebrow expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

He had been waiting for her to reveal her news for _weeks_ now. He had known since the first time she vomited up his perfectly good chili at Sunday dinner, and he had noticed that she was starting to get a little fuller around the face.

He wasn't sure why she was keeping it from him, from everyone, but he didn't want to push. The girl had had a rough time in life, and things were finally starting to turn up for her.

She was probably just scared it was all going to fall apart.

He knew the feeling.

And it had actually happened to him. Everything he had held dear had been taken from him.

So yeah, he knew the feeling. And he wasn't going to push.

"We're pregnant!" Brooke knew she was smiling like an idiot, the dimples present and deep in her cheeks, but she didn't care. God, it felt good to say those words out loud.

Hank immediately jumped from his chair, feigning surprise. His smile, though, he didn't have to fake. "That's wonderful," he said, moving towards Brooke to give her a warm hug. "I'm happy for you, kid."

"Really?" She whispered into the hug. She hadn't been nervous, and she _had_ expected him to be happy, but she had also expected a little shock before the happy.

"Really," he affirmed, squeezing her lightly before releasing her. Then he stuck out hand to shake Jay's. "Congratulations, dad," he added to Jay.

The shock that overcame Jay in that moment must have been written all over his face because Hank's smile turned into a laugh.

"Is that why you waited so long to tell me?" God, the kid was so terrified of him it was hilarious.

"You _knew_?" Brooke asked, her voice full of surprise.

"Of course I knew. I'm a detective," he said, patting her lightly on the cheek. "How far along are you, anyway?"

"16 weeks," Brooke revealed. "You're the first person we told," she said, wanting him to know she hadn't held back because it was him, because he was Jay's boss. "I just wasn't ready, I was-"

"Hey," Hank interrupted, his voice soft. "You don't have to explain."

He remembered the day that Camille told him she was pregnant with twins. A boy and a girl. And he remembered the day they left the hospital, with only one baby.

So really, once again, he knew the feeling.

Brooke gave him a soft smile, "Thanks, Hank," she whispered.

Bad things happened, Hank realized. Bad things happen all the time.

But nothing bad was going to happen to this baby.

He was sure of it.

0000

"Wait," Jay looked down at his paper ticket as they stood in line to board the plane. "This ticket says seat 1A."

"Yeah?" Brooke answered half distracted, as she answered several last minute emails before she got on the plane. She _could_ get wifi, but she really _wanted_ a nap. Traveling always exhausted her, but traveling while pregnant? Well, she was getting exhausted just thinking about it.

"Did we get upgraded to first class?" He asked, completely confused but also kind of excited. He had never in his life flown first class.

This caused Brooke to look up from her phone and stare at Jay, giving him a completely incredulous look. "Baby," she shook her head, "You realize these flights are being charged to the company right?" Even if the trip was _kind of_ for pleasure, she had also crammed in several meetings during their trip.

Realization dawned on him, and he just smirked at her. "Brooke Davis only flies first class, is that it?"

She smirked right back, "Damn straight."

He couldn't help but laugh. Once again, he loved how unapologetic she was about these things.

And it would be one thing if she used her wealth to pay people to do everything for her so she never had to lift a finger. Or if she was rude to the people she _did_ pay. But actually, she was the hardest worker he had ever met and she was _never_ rude. She was _never_ ungrateful.

So he liked that she never apologized for enjoying the perks of her success.

"I think I'm going to like traveling with Brooke Davis," he teased.

"I think you are, too," she winked at him, and then returned her gaze to her phone, finishing up the final email before she boarded the plane.

0000

"Babe," Brooke whispered, as she gently nudged Jay. "I want a tuna melt." She knew she should feel bad waking him from his slumber, but she didn't.

She couldn't sleep.

She could _always_ sleep on airplanes. She could sleep anywhere.

In fact, it was one of the things she liked most about herself. Her ability to sleep no matter how shitty, how scary, how stressful her life was in that moment.

"What?" Jay sighed, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes still closed.

"I'm hungry and I was a tuna melt," she repeated. She couldn't sleep because her stomach would _no_ t stop grumbling.

It didn't help that the flight attendant kept offering her alcohol to help her sleep. She would _kill_ for a glass of red.

Jay finally opened his eyes, adjusting to the bright sun that was cascading through the window of the plane. The window _he_ had closed, and _she_ had reopened. "What time is it?" He asked, knowing the flight was barely over an hour total and they couldn't be far from their destination.

"We're going to land in five minutes," she explained, letting him know why she didn't feel _that_ badly about waking him up. Well that, and the fact that she was pregnant with _his_ baby.

"Then we will get you a tuna melt in the airport first thing," he said, reaching for her hand in a gesture that told her he wasn't the least bit put off my her pregnancy-induced cravings and her subsequently waking him up.

"I don't want one from the airport," she pouted. "I want one from Au Bon Pain. They have one right near COB headquarters." She used to eat there almost every day. Everyone else wanted fancy lunches from Le Marais or The Palm, but all she ever wanted was a buttery croissant paired with a salad from Au Bon Pain. Why spend money on fancy lunches when they were so much better? Not to mention their non-fat mocha lattes had the _best_ foam.

She was craving one so badly that she sent her New York assistant a brief email letting her know she would be ten minutes late for her first meeting.

And she _never_ did that.

God, this pregnancy thing was no joke.

"Okay," Jay replied, squeezing her hand as the plane descended lower and lower. "Then Au Bon Pain it is."

"You'll come with me?" Brooke asked, smiling sheepishly. Since Brooke had meetings scheduled all day, Jay had a full day planned of tourist activities. He would miss his first scheduled activity if he came with her.

"Baby," he leaned across the armrest to press his lips softly against hers. "I'd go anywhere with you."

 **Xoxo**

 **Please Review :) And thanks so much for reading!**

Also, I did this whole chapter on my iPad, so my apologies for any typos! Damn auto correct lol.


	31. Chapter 31

**AUTHORS NOTE:**

 **Hi everyone :) A lot of you have commented or sent me a PM about this story, and I am so grateful that I have so many readers out there. I have not forgotten about this story, I promise. Unfortunately, I just started on the hardest rotation, and I leave my apt at 4 am and don't return until 7 pm! So I haven't had time to sleep let alone write lol :( I will be on this rotation for 3 more weeks and then I'm on an easier one and will try to write more then!**

 **I was going to just post this as an author's note and not add a chapter, but then I felt guilty about that so I wrote out one scene to add to this AN. Usually my chapters have 3 or 4 scenes and this one just had one, but that's better than nothing, right?!**

 **I hope you're all having an awesome summer :) Thanks for all the message and reviews, I love getting them in the middle of a tough work day !**

 **Happy reading :)**

Chapter 31,

"Oh my god," Brooke sighed into the hot sandwhich. She didn't care that the melting cheese was sloppily dripping from the sandwhich, or that her hands were full of grease from the buttery bread. "This is everything I wanted and more."

"I'm glad," Jay chuckled, the smile on his own lips almost as wide as Brooke's. The pregnancy hormones were no joke, and neither was the pregnancy appetite. And he was seriously loving every minute of it.

He checked his watch, making sure to monitor the times for the both of them. "Should we start walking?" He asked, she was nearing the end of her sandwhich and she was also nearing the end of her 15 minutes.

"You're walking with me?" She asked, as she chewed and swallowed the last bite. She wiped her hands on one of the many paper napkins she had accumulated.

"Of course," he said, slipping his hand into her own.

"But you're already running late for your tour," she forced herself to say, even though she really just wanted him to come with her.

"I'll catch the next one," he said easily, as they walked out the front door of Au Bon Pain. "Besides, I want to see your digs."

Jay had seen Brooke's office in Chicago, and over the past five months, he had overheard enough phone calls and seen enough fashion magazines to know that Clothes over Bros was a multi-million dollar company which was even more successful than he had first thought. But the main office where Brooke had spent the first four years of her company's life, where she had cultivated it, nurtured it, and made it her own, was here in New York and he couldn't wait to see it.

"Okay," Brooke replied, giving him a slow smile. "I can't wait to show them to you."

They walked the few blocks hand in hand in a comfortable silence. Brooke was taking in the familiar surroundings, shocked at how it all seemed completely unchanged. There were a few things that had changed, of course, like the Chinese restaurant on the corner was now a pizza place, and the nail salon next door had been decorated and had a brand new sign, but the _essence_ of it seemed the same.

Which actually felt kind of weird. Because maybe _it_ hadn't changed, but _she_ had. And walking the same city blocks hand in hand with the man she loved, a baby slowly growing inside her, it just felt different somehow.

"This is it," Brooke said when they reached the tall building that housed her corporate office Clothes over Bros.

"Fancy," Jay teased, raising his eyebrow and smirking in her direction as they walked through the revolving door and into the large lobby.

"Well," Brooke said, "If you haven't noticed, I'm pretty fancy," she teased back.

"Oh, I've noticed," he replied, his voice full of mirth and sarcasm, as he pressed the button to call one of the six elevators.

"Shut up, you love it," she smacked his arm gently, but couldn't help the smile that rose to her lips, sinking her dimples into her cheeks. Her smile widened further when he reached for her cheek and squeezed it before leaning in and kissing her.

"I do love it," he whispered quietly against her lips, all teasing gone from his voice. "I love you."

000000

"Ready?" She asked, as the elevator doors began to open.

"Why are you asking me?" He asked, confused. "You're the one with the big meeting."

 _Crap_ , she thought, realizing she hadn't exactly warned Jay about who was _also_ going to be at said meeting. "Oh, well-"

"Brooke." Victoria Davis stepped out looking stunning in a perfect royal blue blazer and blank pencil skirt, her sky high heels revealing her perfectly toned and tanned legs. Legs that should _not_ belong to a 50 year old woman. "You're late."

"Victoria," Brooke said, keeping her voice flat. She had rehired her mother, but she had given her a _much_ smaller percentage of the company and an even smaller role. She wasn't even really needed at this meeting, but Brooke knew Victoria wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to sit in on a meeting with Brooke and Macy's.

 _Whatever,_ Brooke figured. _Let her watch me dazzle them._

Brooke had been managing quite well with Macy's, and she knew that would continue. There was nothing her mother could say to upset her.

"And you got _fat._ "

Well, except that.

"I did not," Brooke replied, even though she knew it wasn't true. She had worn a looser dress than usual today, hoping it would hide the growing bump. But nothing could hide the new roundness of her face.

"You did," Victoria said, her voice full of surprise. If there was one thing she _never_ had to worry about with her daughter, it was her weight. "Your face," she said, as she moved closer, shaking her head in disappointment and raising her hand to reach out and touch it. "This is _not_ going to photograph well."

Brooke smacked her hand away before her fingers reached skin. "I'm not fat, mother," she said, Jay's hands still warmly wrapped in her own. "I'm _pregnant._ "

And with that, she turned and walked away.

 **xoxo**

 **I hope you enjoyed this brief chapter and will hang in there with me until I have more time to write the next one :)**


	32. Chapter 32

I officially finished my crazy rotation and am on an easier one :) So so sorry to keep you all waiting. Thank you so much to all of you that have continued to read my story, even though I've been updating much less. It means so much to me :) And I loved reading your comments and words of encouragement during my busy days! I've had a plan and outline for the next few chapters for a while, but I finally have some time to actually write them! YAY! Hope you enjoy this one :)

Hope you're all having an awesome summer!

 **Chapter 32,**

"Should I call something in? Are you almost here?" Brooke hiked her large purse further onto her shoulder and pressed the button in the elevator, all the while keeping her cell phone pressed firmly between her ear and shoulder.

"I'm about to get on the Subway," Jay answered, his phone also pressed between his ear and his shoulder as he walked the several flights down to the lower platform.

He was exhausted after a day full of exploring the city. He hadn't been to New York City since Will had been in medical school here, and then he had been a young kid, more concerned with sneaking into bars than seeing the sites. "What stop should I be getting off again?"

"77th street. Wait, babe," Brooke said, as she moved passed the elevator door and into her apartment. "You didn't have to take the Subway! I could've sent a car." She had just gotten out of the car she had ordered to take her from her corporate headquarters back to her Upper East Side apartment. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had taken the Subway.

"I like the Subway," Jay replied easily. "Besides, I'm not sure I'm an 'order a car to go twenty blocks' kind of guy," he joked, as he swiped his ticket and passed through the revolving gate.

"Well you weren't a first class flight kind of guy before today, either," she replied, her voice teasing. "A man can change."

"Fair enough," he chuckled into the phone. "I think I should be there in 20 minutes though," he continued, his voice now calm and smooth as he waited for the train to come. "And I'm down for whatever." They were going to have a late dinner after Nathan's 8 pm basketball game, so he knew Brooke would just want something quick to hold her over.

"Thai?" Brooke asked, as she moved into the industrial size kitchen of her New York apartment. The appliances were state of the art, the cabinets a dark cherry wood, the countertops a light beige granite. Of course, she made more use out of the drawer of take out menus and she had rarely had any use for the appliances, but she liked looking at them just the same.

It was such a pretty, large space. The opposite of what most New York apartments looked like.

"Thai sounds perfect," Jay answered, "The train is coming, I'm probably going to lose you," he said quickly as he watched the subway train approach.

"Okay, I'll see you soon," she said, pulling her favorite Thai restaurant's menu from the top drawer. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby." He smiled into the phone, "See you soon."

00000

Jay rechecked the address on his iPhone for a second time and then shook his head in disbelief.

 _This_ was her apartment building?

She had the penthouse apartment in her apartment building in Chicago, a large house on the beach in Tree Hill, and now this too?

Sometimes he had trouble reconciling the two versions of Brooke Davis.

The girl he had gotten to know, the one he was beginning to think of as _his_ girl, was down to earth. And sure, she flew first class, and her car likely cost more than he made in a year... but when he cozied up next to her on the couch, when he slept next to her at night, he didn't think of her that way.

She was brilliant, strong, hard working, and caring; she never spoke down to people that worked for her, and she always, _always_ made time for people that were important to her.

She brought food for the detectives when they were working late on a case, she took care to always make his coffee the way he liked it, always preparing it in the travel mug she had bought him and pairing it with a short, but loving note.

And she had made the time to build _real_ relationships with his friends. Even Burgess was starting to forget that she was a famous fashion designer, and was beginning to just see her as her friend.

But this building? This building didn't seem down to earth _at all_. It was across the street from Central Park, in the center of the fanciest neighborhood in the city, and on the inside, there was marble everywhere he turned.

He walked through the door, nodding to the doorman and feeling completely underdressed for this lobby, and tried to inconspicuously move towards the elevator.

"Excuse me, sir?" The lady at the reception called out to him, no doubt noticing how poorly he fit in. He turned and strode towards her.

"Hi, I'm Jay Halstead," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm here-"

"Oh, Mr. Halstead," she said, cutting him off with a bright smile. "Of course. Welcome! You can continue towards the elevator."

"Okay," Jay stuttered out the word, surprised she knew his name. "Um... thanks."

He tried to smile warmly at her, but he knew he wasn't convincing anyone. He moved towards the elevator once again, this time making it the whole way. A gentleman with a name tag that said _Antoine_ greeted him, "Nice to see you, Mr. Halstead. Right this way." Antoine ushered him into the elevator, and slid a key into the lock. As he did so, he pressed the button that said _PH_.

 _Another penthouse apartment_ , he thought. As the floors rose towards the top floor, so did his insecurities.

The insecurities that he had pushed away the day he found he was going to be a father. The ones he thought he had gotten past.

 _Apparently you haven't,_ he thought, letting out a long, loud sigh.

He was questioning everything all of a sudden, and he wasn't really sure why.

But then all at once, he realized that wasn't true.

He _did_ know why. He knew _exactly_ why.

It was because of the conversation they had had right before Brooke's meeting, after Brooke had stormed away from Victoria.

 _"Jeez, Brooke," Jay had said in disbelief. "You're mom is..." He looked for a word that fit better than awful, or bitch, or something close. But he couldn't find one._

 _"Mean," Brooke finished his sentence for him, and he realized that that was the perfect word. She was mean. She was spiteful, and callous, and hostile, and mean. Especially to her daughter._

 _"Well," he threaded his fingers through hers. "If it's any consollation, I think you look more beautiful today than on the day I first met you."_

 _She shook her head, as if to say_ we both know _that's_ not true.

 _But then he leaned in and whispered, "You've always had that Brooke Davis sparkle. But with my baby inside you, you just seem to glow." It was true, and he meant every word. Everytime he saw her rounding belly, he couldn't help but reach out and touch it. The soft, warm skin that greeted his fingers always made his smile widen further._

 _The day he felt the baby move for the first time, a flutter beneath his hand, he couldn't believe it. He was sure he had never been_ that _happy,_ that _in love._

 _And it wasn't just that it was something Brooke had wanted her whole life, something that only_ he _had been able to give her. It was that for him, it was the same. It was something he hadn't even known he'd wanted._

 _A family._

 _And_ she _was giving that to him._

 _"I love you," he finished, his breath warm against her ear before he pulled away. "Besides," he said, squeezing the extra fat around her dimples. "Now there's just more of you love."_

 _"Shut up," she said, her lips and eyes finally relaxing into a smile._

 _And that's when he had started to walk away, ready to walk the ten blocks to the Empire State building._

 _She was smiling, he was smiling, all was good._

 _But then she had grabbed his hand, pulled him back._

 _"Wait, babe," she had said. "This dress doesn't make me look pregnant right?"_

 _It was a deep navy blue loose shift dress, and it hung loose around her whole body, revealing nothing. "No," he replied, knowing it was more about the roundness of her face than any bump around her middle. "But babe," he continued, "After we tell Nathan and Haley tonight, what does it matter if people know?" They had told Voight, along with the rest of the team. She had planned to call Peyton, Lucas, Millie, Mouth, Quinn, Clay, and Alex later that night. If anything,_ he _should be the one to care, not having told Will yet. But he didn't._

 _So why did she?_

 _"God," she replied, her face twisting into a slight grimace. "Because the_ last _thing we need is a scandal." She shook her head, "I want the announcement of my partnership with Macy's on the front page, not speculation on who's Brooke Davis' baby daddy."_

He hadn't said anything then. He had just nodded his head in agreement, as if he understood her point.

As if he didn't want to scream, _'_ You're baby daddy? You're _baby daddy?'_

He didn't _feel_ like a baby daddy.

And he _certainly_ didn't feel like their relationship needed to be some scandalous secret.

He felt like her _partner._

Her future partner in parenting, her current partner in _life._

At least, that's what he wanted.

And it was, he _thought_ , what she wanted, too.

By the time the elevator door opened into the foyer of the apartment, his heart felt heavy.

"Jay," he heard her before he saw her. Instead of her face being the thing to greet him, his eyes landed on the _massive,_ expertly decorated foyer. "I'm in the kitchen," she shouted.

He forced himself to push down the thoughts that had been plaguing him in the elevator, and allowed his body to follow the sound of her voice. He had had a lifetime's practice of shoving thoughts away, and he knew he could do it again.

He moved down the open hallway until he reached a large, gorgeous kitchen. "Baby," he said, shaking his head, his voice betraying nothing. "This kitchen is _wasted_ on you," he began moving towards the state of the art stove, running his hands over the sleek stainless steel. It was fancier than her Chicago apartment's kitchen, which he hadn't even thought was possible.

"I know," she pouted. "And so is the wine cooler," she pointed under the island to the hidden wine fridge that housed dozens of bottles of expensive wines. "God, sometimes I _hate_ being pregnant."

"You do not," he retorted immediately, moving away from the stove and towards her, where she sat on the stool at the kitchen island. When he reached her, he laid his lips against hers. It was soft, quick, intimate, and when he released her, he continued to speak. "You love being pregnant," he said, with a lot more confidence that he was actually feeling.

He wasn't sure why he needed to hear her say the words aloud.

He _knew_ she loved being pregnant. Even before he had come along, she had _desperately_ wanted to be pregnant. So he wasn't sure why he needed to hear it again.

But he did.

So when she gave him her token smile, the one that lit up her entire face and sunk her dimples way into the crevices of her cheeks, and squealed, "I know, I really do!", it went a long way to ease the tension in his shoulders.

And when she kissed him again, not even able to stop her smile to kiss him properly, it eased the tension everywhere else.

00000000

"How about this dress?" Brooke walked out into the living room, in a _very_ short but _very_ loose black dress, paired with a tan leather jacket.

"Pretty," Jay replied, not really wanting to get into this again.

"Okay, but can you tell I'm pregnant in this dress?" She tried a second time.

 _Yes, I can tell you're pregnant. Because you're nearly 5 fucking months pregnant._ "Nope," he replied, after a long, calming deep breath.

"Okay, then I'm ready," she said.

But instead of moving towards the door, she moved towards Jay's spot on the couch. She sat down, shifting her body until she was tucked underneath him.

"You know," she said, her voice soft as velvet, several octaves lower than her previous words. "Haley got pregnant with Jamie at the beginning of our senior year of high school."

 _I know,_ he almost said. But before Jay could open his mouth, he shifted his gaze until his eyes settled on Brooke's face, and he realized there were tears filling her eyes.

"At the time, Haley and Nathan were arguing about colleges, and so I was the one who went to the doctor with Haley when she found out she was pregnant," she shook her head then, and Jay realized she was in another world. She was back there, in that doctor's office, all those years ago.

"I _pitied_ her," Brooke whispered. "Yeah, she was married. But she was barely 18. I looked at her and all I saw was a girl who was tied down with a baby on the way. A girl who would never be able to follow her dreams."

She shifted her body so that she was no longer tucked beneat Jay's arm, but was now facing him on the couch. "I was so stupid back then," she shook her head in disbelief. "Jamie didn't ruin her dreams, he made every single dream she had _better._ Everything she did, everything she accomplished, she had a family by her side."

A lone tear fell against her cheek, and Jay brushed it away as she continued to speak. "I've been jealous of that ever since," she whispered. "And even though she welcomed me into that family and she made me Aunt Brooke, and she's celebrated with me through every one of my successes, I've come to realize that she probably pitied _me_ that day. And maybe every day since."

"Haley doesn't pity you, Brooke," Jay interjected, knowing Brooke _hated_ for people to feel bad for her. He had learned that the very first day they met, when she had been fearing for her life. He respected the hell out of it then, and he respected the hell out of it now.

"I know," she said, dismissively. That hadn't been what she meant. These weren't _sad_ tears. "It just feels surreal that I'm going to see her tonight," she explained, "That I'm going to walk into that basketball court, hand in hand with the man I love, and I'm going to tell my best friend that I'm going to be a mom. That you and I are having a baby. That finally, _finally_ all _my_ dreams are coming true."

She smiled, tears continuing to stream down her cheeks, and then added with a whisper, "I just can't wait."

It was only when she leaned into kiss him that he realized tears had to sprung to his eyes, too.

Because, really, _that_ had been what he had needed to hear.

 **xoxo**

Please, please review and let me know if you are still interested in reading more :)


	33. Chapter 33

Hi all :) Thanks SO much for all the reviews on the last chapter (I just LOVE reading them), and your continued interest in this story. Y'all are the BEST!

 **Chapter 33,**

Brooke woke the following morning feeling like she was floating. Her morning sickness was gone, as was the low level headache that often came in the morning now that she had opted to forgo caffeine. It was a perfect day outside, and the temperature in the apartment was cool and comfortable. As was the bed she was stepping out of. But those things had nothing to do with her fantastic mood.

Instead, it was that she woke with a feeling of complete contentment, still thinking of the night before; of how amazing it had been, spending the night with the love of her wife and her very best friend.

It had taken Haley only thirty seconds to figure out that Brooke was pregnant.

 _"Are we meeting her at the seats?" Jay asked, as he stepped out of the black car Brooke had ordered to bring them to the game. He walked over and opened the door for Brooke, threading his fingers into hers as she stood from the leather seat. Even though he was more of a hockey fan than a basketball fan, he was pretty excited for the game. They were sitting in the front row at Madison Square Garden, perks of attending with the star player's wife._

 _"No," Brooke said, shaking her head. "I wanted to meet her out front." She had originally told Jay she planned to wait until after dinner to tell Haley she was pregnant, so that Nathan could be there too, but she wasn't sure she would be able to wait that long. And she was pretty sure he knew it, too._

 _"I don't think Nathan will care if you tell her first," Jay said, reading her mind._

 _Before she could voice her answer, she saw Haley moving towards them. Her blond hair was longer than it had been the last time Brooke had seen her, and it curled effortlessly past her shoulders. She was wearing dark jeans and a fitted Charlotte Bobcats shirt to ensure everyone knew where she came from._

 _As if the whole world didn't already know. Nathan and Haley Scott were one of the country's most "shipped" couples, the country singer and the basketball star with two beautiful children. And, of course, it didn't hurt that they were actually genuinely in love and that it definitely showed._

 _"Brooke Davis," she said, as she moved closer, her voice so high and excited it could've been considered a shriek. "You're PREGNANT!?" The word came out in a loud whisper, as if Haley was all of a sudden aware that they were in a crowded parking lot, and they were a pair of well known celebrities. People were used to seeing them out and about in Tree Hill, and after a few months of being back, they rarely got stopped on the streets anymore. But Haley'd been in New York for one day, and already she had been asked to take six photos with fans._

 _"What? How-" Brooke could barely finish her sentence, stunned at her friend's words, stunned at her friend's face. Haley was smiling so wide her face must have been sore._

 _"A best friend just knows," Haley said, which she was actually more polite than what she thinking, which was_ I've never seen you in such a loose dress, and you gained at least 5 lbs in your face _. "You're glowing," she added. Because at the very least,_ that _was true._

 _"Thank you," Brooke whispered, her voice suddenly low for an entirely different reason than Haley's. She was feeling so overwhelmed, so happy, so_ wistful _in that moment, that she could barely form words._

 _"Does that mean the fertility doctor was able to help you?" Haley asked lightly, reaching for Brooke's hand and squeezing it. She was thrilled she had done the research, found the well known doctor that clearly had been able to help._

 _"No, actually," Brooke said, finally finding her voice in the darkness of the parking lot._

 _Haley raised her eyebrows in confusion, and tilted her head as she spoke. "Than how did you-"_

 _It was Jay who cut her off, finally joining the conversation when he found he had something to say. "She didn't need her," he said, loud and proud. "She did it all on her own."_

Brooke couldn't help but smile as the memories of the night before washed over her as she stood in the shower.

 _She did it all on her own._

 _No_ , she thought. _We did._

The rest of the night had been fantastic. They had sat front row and watched Nathan's team _kill_ the New York Knicks. And even though she knew Jay wasn't a huge fan of basketball, he cheered just as loudly as anyone else when Nathan hit the winning shot.

After the post-show press conference, Nathan, Haley, Jay, and Brooke went for a late night date night to a swanky restaurant in the East Village. They had told Nathan their news, and he had been _thrilled_ for them.

At one point in the night when Nathan thought Brooke hadn't been listening, he told Jay how lucky he was that he was about to raise a kid with Brooke.

 _'You've seen her with my kids,'_ he had said, _'She is going to be one fantastic mother. She has the biggest heart of anyone I know.'_ He had paused them, almost as if he was trying to decide if he should add the next sentence. _'She didn't have the best example for parents, but neither did I. And I think that's one of the things that makes me a good parent. I learned long ago what_ not _to do. And well,'_ he added witsfully _'I had Haley to help me navigate the rest of it.'_

She was so glad he had added that last part, because those words resonated with her more than any of the rest of them. And instead of making her sad that - he was right, she _didn't_ have the best example - it actually took her to a whole new level of contentment and calm. Because he _was_ right about the rest of it, too. She would know _exactly_ what not to do.

And then she had Jay to help her navigate the rest of it.

When Brooke got out of the shower, she got dressed quietly, careful not to wake Jay. She had a few early meetings, and was hoping to make it out at a reasonable time. She and Jay were going to the movie premiere tonight, and she hoped they might have time to get dinner first. She wanted to treat him to a real New York City date night.

She carried her shoes out of the room, sliding them on only after she had shut the bedroom door completely. They echoed as she strode down the wooden floors to the kitchen to begin her morning routine.

It was only when she got there that she realized she didn't have everything she needed for her morning routine. She pulled out a piece of purple stationary, the Clothes over Bros stationary that she _always_ seemed to have handy, and began to write Jay a note.

 _I forgot that your simple man coffee maker didn't make it to NYC. Luckily, there is a Starbucks on every corner here and you can get your normal, boring cup of coffee there._

 _Have a good day, and I'll see you tonight._

 _I'll be the one looking very pregnant in my new tight red dress._

 _I love you._

 _Me_

At some point between going to sleep last night and this moment in the kitchen, she had decided it was time. It was time to tell the world that she was pregnant.

Pregnant, and happy, and in love.

Baby daddy drama be damned.

Besides, she figured, who didn't love a little drama?

00000

The drama Brooke got was _not_ what she expected, and was a _lot_ more than she bargained for.

She spent the morning in meetings, and similar to the day before, she had avoided any personal conversations with her mother. She used her assistane Calliope as a buffer, not allowing her to leave her side.

But when the tabloid article came out at 3 pm, she found she couldn't avoid the conversation any longer.

She hadn't even been the one to see it right away, and neither had her social media team, God only knows what she was paying _them_ for. Rather, she had gotten a text message from Haley around 3:15.

 _Haley: Brooke, have to seen the Huffington Post article about last night?_

Instead of pressing the home key and switching into the Safari application, instead of opening the article and reading for herself, she typed out a quick reply.

 _Brooke:_ _No. How bad is it?_

Was her plan to reveal her pregnancy tonight already obselete? Did they take one look at her round face, her loose dress, and read right through it?

What were they saying?

She was about to close the iMessage screen and look for herself when she saw three little dots come up on the screen, and then immediately disappear.

 _That's not a good sign,_ she thought. Her own best friend wasn't sure what to say.

Haley seemed to try again, another three dots appearing on the screen, this time staying slightly longer than before before they disappeared.

Finally, a new message appeared.

 _Haley: You should call Jay._

Brooke's heart sunk, right before it went into overdrive, palpitating madly as she opened the internet browser.

She typed in _Brooke Davis, Huffington post_ and immediately, the article appeared. Along with three copycat articles posted less than an hour after the original.

 **Brooke Davis spotted with new man. But does she know what kind of man he** ** _really_** **is?**

By: Casey Spencer

Brooke let out a ragged breath as she read the first few sentences.

 _Over the years, Brooke Davis has been seen around town with some of the most eligible bachelors in town. And why shouldn't she? She's been named People's Sexiest Woman Alive. Twice. But in all the years we've known and loved her, we've never known her to settle down._

 _So when she was spotted with another tall stud nearly 5 months ago at her Chicago Clothes over Bros opening, we didn't think anything of it. Just another piece of sexy arm candy, another in a long line of very attractive men._

 _But now he's back. And this time it's different._

 _Because this time she brought him along an outing with her best friend, country singer Haley James Scott. And this time, she looked a tiny bit pregnant._

 _So who is this man?_

 _Accroding to our source he's former Army Ranger, and current Chicago PD detective, Jay Halstead._

 _And he is_ not _who he wants Brooke Davis to think he is._

Brooke kept reading, equal parts fascinated and devastated by the article.

She was so enthralled, she barely heard her mother come in, nearly missed the click of her heels against the hard wood floor of the conference room.

"Brooke," she said, sternly. "Have you read this?" She slammed a printed version of the article down on the glass conference table, and the unstapled papers slid apart from each other. The photos were smaller on the phone, and printed on the large paper, they were much less forgiving.

She should have known she wouldn't be able to hide her pregnancy, that, _of course,_ she would never be able to reveal something of this magnitude on her own terms.

"So they know I'm pregnant," she said, trying to keep her voice casual and breezy. She wasn't sure if she was pulling it off. "Who cares?"

"I don't care about _that,_ " Victoria spat, her voice cold, but also venomous in a way that revealed that she actually _did_ care. She cared a great deal. "I care that you're pregnant with _that man's_ baby."

" _That man_ has a name, and _that man_ loves me," Brooke said, finding her voice and filling it with the same disdain her mother had just shown. "And I don't care what that article says about him-"

"Well then you must not have finished the article," her mom said, as she calmly slid the paper to reveal the third page.

Brooke had, in fact, finished the article. She had read every scathing word. She had read several of them twice.

But she didn't care. She didn't care at all.

"I don't care what that article says about him," she repeated. And this time she finished her sentence before her mother was able to cut her off again. "I _know_ him, and I love him, and this article is just a bunch of lies. And I don't want to hear another word about it."

She moved towards the desk, and shoved the three papers away in a movement that was a lot less dramatic than she had intended.

But then she walked away, slamming the glass conference door behind her in a movement that was _exactly_ as dramatic as she intended.

By the time she reached the elevator, she had already called a car. In less than five minutes, she was already on the road, the driver navigating the city streets in rush hour to get her back to her apartment.

When she got there, she didn't bother with the usual pleasantries with the staff, and instead rushed into the elevator as fast she could. She needed to get to Jay.

She needed to get to Jay _now._

Because he wouldn't know, _couldn't_ know how often articles were printed without a word of truth.

Because _she_ may be used to these scathing articles, but she knew that _he_ wasn't.

And because she may not care, but he _definitely_ would.

When the elevator door opened to the top floor, she moved quickly inside, as she called his name.

But after several moments, there was no answer.

She moved from room to room, calling out his name, not truly believing her eyes, not believing the quiet that surrounded her.

But it was only until she made it to the last room, her kitchen, and noticed her note still untouched on the counter, that she let it sink it.

Jay wasn't here. He was gone.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

Oh, and one of my reviewers asked if I'm French because of the French words/names I use! Marie - I'm not French lol. BUT I have a very good friend who I am constantly bouncing ideas off of for this story, and SHE is French. So I am always trying to throw in French words and phrases! And she makes fun of me because I can't pronounce Au Bon Pain, even though we had an Au Bon Pain in the hospital I worked at last year and I used to eat there all the time! (I just called it ABP lol!) I have been to France though, and I would LOVE to go back one day :) :)


	34. Chapter 34

**Hi everyone :) Sorry this is such a short chapter, I just wanted to get something out so as to not leave you all hanging! So here you are, the rest of the article on Jay. I hope you enjoy it :)**

 **Chapter 34,**

Instead of the tight red dressed she had planned to don for the Saturday night movie premiere, Brooke put on her warmest dark green flannels and curled up on the couch. She tucked herself under her blanket, and reached for the remote. On second thought, she placed the remote back on the coffee table, unable to focus on anything but the fluttering in her belly, as her baby kicked and kicked, blissfully unaware of the world around it.

She tossed the blanket onto the floor, suddenly overheating in her flannel pajamas. She had forced herself not to slip into one of Jay's t-shirt, just as she had forced herself not to cry as she tossed her love note into the trash.

Just as she forced herself not to call Jay's cell phone again.

She had called three or four times on the way back to the apartment, back when she thought this story was something they would combat together. And so she couldn't, _wouldn't_ bring herself to call him again.

If he wanted to walk out, that was fine. If he wanted to shut her out, that was fine, too.

She had been here before. And even though she hadn't expected to be here again, she knew she could handle it.

Brooke Penelope Davis could handle anything.

Her mind flashed back to the night Sam left to live with her birth mother. She had left her house, unable to stand the emptiness and quiet in a house that had been so full of life and laughter. Instead of reaching for a friend, she had reached for her pencils.

 _We have our work to focus on now_.

That's what her mother had said then, and no doubt, it's what she would say now.

Except now, Brooke also had a baby to focus on.

A baby that was half hers, and half Jay's.

With that thought, a stubborn tear slid down Brooke's cheek. She wiped it away, willing the rest of the tears to stay put. They continued to sting the back of hers eyes, but she was satisfied when they didn't spill over the edge of her lids.

 _You can do this,_ she thought. _You can handle this alone._

As Brooke went to wipe another tear before it threatened to fall, she heard the elevator door to her apartment open. And then she heard footsteps.

Well, not really footsteps, more like stumbling. She got up immediately, moving down the hallway to the foyer.

Her eyes widened at the sight in front of her.

Jay was dressed in his impeccably tailored suit, but he was an unkempt mess. His light blue shirt that had previously been ironed now seemed wrinkled with a quarter of the buttons undone. His matching tied was loosened and completely askew and there was clear evidence of spilled drinks down towards the bottom of it.

Not to mentioned he _reaked_ of alcohol.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Jay spoke first, his words so slurred and quiet they were barely audible above the hum of the air conditioner.

"The article," he said, unable to look her in the eye as she moved closer. "It's true," he said.

Then he finally looked up, and she saw the emotion in his deep blue eyes. His eyes were red and raw, almost as if he had cried every tear his body could make, had poured all of the emotion out of them and now they were all dried up. "It's true," he repeated. "Every word of it."

0000 **Earlier That Day** 0000

Jay woke up to an empty bed. The sun was shining through the translucent window shades, alerting him to the new day. He couldn't help the smile that came to his lips when he inhaled the smell of Brooke Davis still very much present in the sheets.

He stayed for a moment, breathing in the moment for a minute longer before he slid out of bed. He moved into the shower, the whole time thinking back on the night before with Nathan and Haley. The front row seats at the basketball game, the fancy dinner, the expensive car service, each of those things had made for an exciting night out, but nothing had made him feel as important, as _worthy_ , as the moment Brooke had slipped her hand in his and told Haley that _he_ was the father.

That _they_ were going to have a baby.

She had absolutely glowed in that moment, and he felt it, too. He felt like her light was shining on him. Like everything that he had ever done to lead to this moment, that it was all okay. That every terrible, awful, traumatic experience he had lived through had brought him here, and they had all been worth it.

It was like Nathan had said. The hardships, the obstacles, it's what makes you _better._

A better friend. A better parent. A better partner.

He was ready to put everything behind him and move forward. He finally felt at peace.

The feeling continued when he walked into the kitchen and found Brooke's note. _I'll be the one in the tight red dress._

And then, _Love, Me._ just like his mother had always said.

God, he didn't even _need_ the coffee this morning for energy, the note from Brooke invigorating him all on it's own.

But when he opened his phone to text Brooke a _Good morning_ text message, he realized that his moment of realization, and his moments of peace, were very short-lived.

Allie Corson: Jay, have you read the Huffington Post article? Call me.

Antonio Dawson: Hey man, I read the article. Call me if you need to talk.

 _What article?_

Before he could respond to either text message, his phone began to ring. _Shit._

"Hello," he answered, warily.

Before Hank could even speak into the phone, Jay could hear his words echoing in his ears. _Never get your picture in the paper._

"Did you read the article?" Voight asked, his voice surprisingly calm and less gruff than usual.

"No," was all Jay could manage to reply.

"Read it," Hank said, and then he paused before adding, "And then don't do anything stupid."

Jay's eyebrows crinkled in confusion, and even thought Voight couldn't see him, it was as if he could _hear_ them over the phone, because he continued to speak after another, longer pause. "It's not on you, Halstead. None of it's on you."

Oh, if only Halstead could have believed those words.

When he hung up with Voight, he immediately searched for the article. And as he read further and further, his world began to cave in around him.

 **Brooke Davis spotted with new man. But does she know what kind of man he** ** _really_** **is?**

By: Casey Spencer

 _Over the years, Brooke Davis has been seen around town with some of the most eligible bachelors in town. And why shouldn't she? She's been named People's Sexiest Woman Alive. Twice. But in all the years we've known and loved her, we've never known her to settle down._

 _So when she was spotted with another tall stud nearly 5 months ago at her Chicago Clothes over Bros opening, we didn't think anything of it. Just another piece of sexy arm candy, another in a long line of very attractive men._

 _But now he's back. And this time it's different._

 _Because this time she brought him along an outing with her best friend, country singer Haley James Scott. And this time, she looked a tiny bit pregnant._

 _So who is this man?_

 _Accroding to our source he's former Army Ranger, and current Chicago PD detective, Jay Halstead._

 _And he is_ not _who he wants Brooke Davis to think he is._

 _Jay Halstead grew up in Chicago, the son of a nasty drunk and a hopeful teacher. He enlisted at 18, clearly eager to escape his complicated home life._

 _In the military, he began to shine. After only 6 months, he applied to become a Ranger, and was accepted immediately. He became the designated sniper of his unit, and became one of the best of our time; he had over 200 confirmed kills in his first tour in Afghanistan. He was awarded multiple metals for his bravery, and the terrorists lives he took likely saved countless of lives back home._

 _Within 3 years, he became the leader of his unit. He had 25 men under his direct command. Twenty-five men who looked to him for guidance. Twenty-five men who placed their lives in his hands._

 _And with them, twenty-five families who depended on him to keep their loved ones safe._

 _To return their loved ones home._

 _But he couldn't do it. He let them down._

 _And because of him, three families will never be the same._

 _After four years as a Ranger, Jay called it quits. He asked for temporary leave, citing a medical emergency, which was later discovered to be the death of his mother from ovarian cancer. But after she died, he didn't return. His time was up, and he was given the option to quit. And so he did._

 _"Its a terrible burden to have that kind of gift," a source explained. "Because you have to be sefless. You have to put your country first. You have to live your life second."_

 _"Jay Halstead wasn't able to do that," another source recalls. "He chose to be selfish. It was a disservice to our nation the day he retired his uniform."_

 _"It was a choice that only he benefited from. And the rest of the team suffered."_

 _Half of his team ended their military careers with him, but the other half of his team returned to Afghanistan without him, under new leadership. And according to our first source, that leadership was not the same. And Halstead knew it._

 _Only one month after Halstead completed his tour, a mission went wrong. And three Ranger's were killed in action._

 _Their families were left to pick up the pieces._

 _Will Brooke Davis be left to pick up the pieces when this fareweather solider decides he's had enough of this responsibility, too?_

 _What about their baby?_

 _The Huffington Post and all of it's readers have rooted for Brooke Davis over the last ten years. We've waited and waited for her to have her love story, her happy ending._

 _But now, we are just hoping it doesn't end in devastation._

 _According to our source, however, "it's not looking good."_

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

 **Also, for those of you concerned about Jay being married, in my world Jay is** ** _never_** **married. LOL!**

 **Oh and ALSO, I have an idea for a new story! I'm going to wrap this story up soon, but I'm not sure if I should start the next one. I won't be able to update as often because of work... eeeeek. Would you guys want me to spend some time writing it in the next few weeks/months, and then just post it later when I have a lot of it written and can post closer together as opposed to these long breaks in between? I don't know, just a thought.**


	35. Chapter 35

Hi everyone :) Happy Friday! I'm working Sunday, but I'm OFF tomorrow and I'm so excited! I'm going to spend the whole day outside by the pool! Wooooooo :) I hope you enjoy this chapter, and your weekend! And don't forget to drop me a review!

 **Chapter 35,**

Brooke guided Jay from the foyer to her bed, using her own body to support his stumbling weight. She had so many questions, so many things she wanted to say, but she knew any words she spoke now would be futile. Jay wouldn't be able to hear a word.

He was too drunk. He was too sad.

So instead she brought him into her room, slowly and carefully removing his rumpled clothing before helping him into bed. She wasn't surprised when he was asleep in moments.

She busied herself getting ready for bed. She had already removed her makeup when it became apparent she wouldn't be going to the premiere, but after the return of Jay to his rightful place, she didn't need the flannel pajamas anymore. She slipped off the heavy layers, and then moved to slip into one of Jay's shirts.

Tonight, she didn't choose the soft, worn ARMY t-shirt. He didn't need that reminder. Instead, she lifted the navy blue Chicago PD t-shirt from his suitcase and slipped it on.

When she walked around to her side and finally got into bed herself ten minutes later, she scooted her body to the center, wrapping her arms tightly around Jay. He seemed to wake up at her touch, but she didn't loosen her hold, trying to use to her body to convey the words she couldn't articulate.

She was surprised when he had snuggled his body against her like a child and began to weep. Even with his eyes closed, she could see the full, large tears stream down his face as he hiccuped uncontrollably.

"It's okay," she whispered, even though she it wasn't.

"You'll feel better after you get some sleep," she whispered, even though she knew he wouldn't.

She wasn't sure he would ever feel better again.

In the darkness of her New York city bedroom, she remembered back to five months before, to the first time Jay had had a nightmare in her bed. She had held him then too, waking him slowly and encouraging him to unload his baggage onto her. To let her share the load.

He had told her about the funerals he had been to, the broken families he had been witness to, he told her about his friend Mouse who was still overseas. She had sensed, even then, that he had felt responsible for those deaths. That he wasn't just sad for them, and he hadn't just felt guilty for surviving when they hadn't. He felt _responsible_.

He was their leader. And he thought he had failed them.

And the Jay Halstead she loved, well, she knew _he_ would never fully be able to get past that. Nothing could ever make that better for him.

Even if _she_ knew it wasn't his fault at all.

After what felt like hours of tears, he finally slept the night in her arms, sleeping off the alcohol, and she hoped, sleeping off the hole he had dug himself into. She stayed up the whole night, cautiously listening to him breath, attuned to every movement of his chest, every change of his heartbeat.

"Hi," he whispered groggily several hours later. Jay had woken up in a tight hold, completely hungover, with a _pounding_ headache.

Unfortunately though, it wasn't one of those hangovers where he woke blissfully unaware of the night before.

No. He remembered _everything_.

He remembered sitting at the bar ordering shot after shot of their cheapest whiskey. He remembered looking up Kevin Connell's home phone number, and leaving a long, apologetic message on his wife's answering machine. First he had apologized for the article, and then he apologized for everything that had lead up to it.

He was pretty sure he cried through the whole thing.

Then he has repeated it twice more, leaving long messages on the answering machines of the wives of the other two soldiers.

The soldiers that were dead because he had valued his own life, his own freedom, his own _sanity_ , over the lives of the men on his team.

When he was finished with his phone calls, he had drank some more. He hasn't even bothered voicing his request for shots of whiskey, instead just signaling the bartender to keep them coming. He drank until he couldn't see straight, until the world seemed fuzzy enough that he could tolerate it for just a little while.

He wanted to blackout. He wanted to stop remembering.

And so, he drank more. But it hadn't work. _Nothing_ had worked.

After his last round, when the young blonde at the bar approached him, asked him if he wanted to _get out of here_ , he had said no. For the first time in his life, he hadn't even been tempted. All those other times, he had slipped into bed with a stranger because he hadn't wanted to be alone. But not this time.

That's when he had finally paid his tab at the bar and stool from the stool. He steadied himself just enough to find a cab, to find someone take him home. Because tonight, he didn't wanted to bury himself in a stranger. He wanted to bury himself in Brooke.

It was only when he saw her in her apartment, looking effortlessly beautiful in oversized flannel pajamas, that he realized why he had left the warm apartment and had gone drinking in the first place.

Ever since he had helped save Sam, ever since he had held Brooke's hair back through her morning sickness, ever since he had started making fast food runs in the middle of the night and tuna melt runs in the middle of the day, Brooke looked at him like he was her hero.

Brooke loved him the way he had been waiting to be loved his whole life. She loved him the way each of the the now dead soldier's had been loved by their wives. Like it simultaneously consumed all of their energy and was also completely effortless all at the same time.

And if it was possible, he was pretty sure he loved her even more than that.

And so he wasn't sure he could bare to see her face once she had read the article.

But for some reason, when he had spoken those words to her, when he admitted that every word in the article was deeply, deeply true, that he _was_ a coward, that he _had_ left his man in the hands of a subpar leader, she hadn't flinched.

Her eyes didn't widen, her face didn't reveal the disgust he felt in his own heart.

If anything, she looked _more_ in love with him than she ever had before. More _connected_.

With one look she had sealed their fate, and had allowed himself to fall apart in her arms. Because Brooke Davis knew every part of him, and she loved him anyway.

"Hi," she whispered back, her voice awake and clear, a surprising contrast to his morning mumbles.

"I, uh-" Jay began, knowing he needed to explain, to apologize for the night before. Even if she seemed okay, they hadn't actually had a conversation. He hadn't verbalized anything yet.

"Jay," she said, cutting him off. "You know it wasn't your fault right?" She moved her body back so that she could look into his blue eyes, and then she gave him a soft, gentle smile, hoping he would grasp how much she meant those words.

Jay shook his head, feeling suddenly disappointed. It _was_ his fault. He needed Brooke to understand that. He needed her to understand that he carried that knowledge with him everyday, that there was more he could have done and he hadn't done it. He needed her to understand, and love him anyway. Could she do that? "I was their Leuitenant Colonel, their leader," he explained.

"Your tour was over," she cut him off once again, combing her fingers through his hair. "You were allowed to go home. You were allowed to _stay_ home."

He shook his head once again. "I put myself first," he said, looking down, his voice full of disgust.

"Baby," she said, taking her hand and lifting his chin so that he was looking in her eyes. "You _never_ put yourself first. You were saving lives in the Afghanistan, and now you're saving lives in Chicago. Your life's work has been to put other people first." She paused for a moment to make sure he truly heard the words she was saying. "If it hadn't been those three soldiers, it could've been Dawson. It could have been Burgess, or Atwater, or Rixton. You have their back, and you put your life on the line for their's everyday."

Jay thought about her words for a long time, and they sat silently in bed, neither of them uttering a single word. After what seemed like an hour, he took a deep, steadying breath before finally speaking again. "Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?" She said, shaking her head like she hadn't done anything.

But she had. With her words, she had made him feel a whole lot lighter.

Because he had never actually thought about it quite that way before.

He had always been like that, though. Maybe he just liked being hard on himself, but he had always found it easier to focus on the bad that had come from his decisions, not the good.

"For being here," he finally said, answering her question. "For knowing everything and for still being here anyway."

"Jay Halstead," she said, pressing her lips against his lightly before leaning back and grabbing his hand, slowly pressing against her swollen belly. "Where else would we be?"

000000

"I'm sorry we didn't make it to the premiere," Jay said, his hands linked in Brooke's. They were seated in the back of a black town car that had just picked them up from the airport, and now that everything had calmed down, he remembered that they had missed the big movie premiere the night before.

"I'm not," she said dismissively. "I'd much rather see the movie from the comfort of my own couch."

"In your flannel pajamas?" Jay smirked, raising his eyebrow slightly in her direction.

"You got a problem with my flannel pajamas?" She teased, mocking insult.

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said, before leaning into whisper, quiet enough that the driver wouldn't overhear. "How am I supposed to touch your legs when you wear those."

He pressed his warm hand against her thigh, and even with the fabric of her pants dividing their skin, the shiver that he elicited had him smiling from ear to ear.

She rolled her eyes in response, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

"Ms. Davis," the driver interrupted. "We are here." The car had just pulled outside Brooke's apartment in Chicago, and the driver began to get out to help her with her bags. "Mr. Halstead, if you don't mind, I will bring up Ms. Davis' bags and then I'll be down shortly to take you home."

"No rush, Todd," Jay said, casually. He leaned over the seat to press his lips against Brooke's. "I'll see you later?"

"You really have to go back to your place?" She asked, immediately kicking herself for the whiny, almost desperate tone her voice had taken against her will.

He hadn't been home in days, and as much as he didn't want to leave Brooke and his baby for one minute, he had to at least _stop_ at home. He probably had mail stacked so high it was exploding out of his box, he had to drop off the rent check that was already two days late, and he should _probably_ check and make sure the place hadn't burned down. "I have to get my mail," he said, lamely.

"I know," she said, trying to sound calmer, more dignified this time around. "I'll miss you though."

"I'll miss you too, baby," he replied, letting her know he wasn't the least put off by her pouty tone, that the feeling was entirely mutual. Then he kissed her once more before she slid her purse over her shoulder and got out of the town car.

Jay watched her walk inside, the driver following closely behind with her bags. Too many bags for the length of their trip to New York, he thought, but that was his girl. Always dressed to the nines, prepared for any occasion, packing at least three pairs of shoes for each day. He was really going to have to insist on some more closet space. Or at the very least, he wanted to put some built-ins in the spare bedroom closet for his clothes.

Also, he wanted to get one of those tables near the front door with a few drawers for the mail. Brooke always had stacks and stacks of mail at her apartment, and it made his overly-organized, likes-everything-neat-and-tidy brain hurt. And she could even put flowers on it and make it pretty if she wanted to, but they really needed something functional in the foyer. That way they could have their bills in one drawer, personal mail in another, and maybe they could put keys and such in a third.

There was so much to do before the baby came. He also wanted to install a few extra lights in their spare bedrooms. Modern apartments always had so much natural light, but they never had enough _actual_ lights. And once it got dark, he wouldn't be able to see.

Also, he was considering making one of their spare bedrooms an office. Brooke already had hers set up, and the baby would take the larger spare room, but their last room was still bare.

And wait - when did he start thinking of it as _their_ apartment?

When had _that_ happened?

As soon as he had the thought, though, he realized those thoughts had been there forever. Since the day Brooke had told him he was going to be a father. Or maybe even before.

Jay got out of the car then, and quickly moved into the building, taking the elevator up to the top floor. Before he lost his nerve, he marched right over to her door and knocked twice.

It took Brooke only a minute to swing the door open, "Todd, did you forget something-" She stopped speaking when she realized it was Jay standing at the door, not her driver. "Jay, what are you-"

"What if all my mail was here?" He asked, his voice coming out a little bit breathless.

She didn't say anything at first, just stared at him with a mix of shock and confusion on her face. "What if all my mail was here because I _lived_ here?" He tried again. "What would you say?"

She smiled widely, and grabbed his hand, gently pulling him inside. Her smile didn't fade even as she kissed his lips.

"I'd say it's about damn time."

xoxo

Please Review :)


	36. Chapter 36

Hi everyone :) I tried to make this chapter and extra long one because I know I've been kind of MIA. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy it :)

Hope everyone has a great weekend!

 **Chapter 36,**

"Mmmm," Jay walked into the kitchen, and while the smell of snickerdoodle cookies wafting in the air had brought him in, it suddenly wasn't the most enticing reason to be in the room.

He moved towards Brooke, who was stirring a large pot on the stove. She was dressed in a tight grey and black dress with a light blue apron on top. He wrapped his arms around her waist, settling in from behind, and layered kisses on her neck as he inhaled her scent. "It smells amazing in here," he said, between kisses.

Brooke leaned her body back into Jay's, closing her eyes and breathing in the moment. "Stop distracting me," she said, but there was no conviction in her words. "People are going to be here any minute!" Her voice was breathy, and suddenly the stew bubbling on the glass-top stove wasn't the only thing making her body feel warm.

He turned her slowly, moving her body away from the hot stove, but pinning her body between him and the granite counter. "We have at least ten minutes," he said, not even bothering to check the time.

He didn't _care_ what time it was. Ever since he had moved in, he hadn't been able to keep his hands off of her.

Actually, that wasn't really new, and it had started well before he moved in, but it felt different now. They had begun setting up each room, Brooke insisting on making each one belong to _both_ of them, but if he was telling the truth, he had enjoyed christening each room much more than he had enjoyed picking out furniture.

He leaned down to kiss her, taking easy possession of her lips as his hands melted down her body until it found her growing belly.

Brooke was enjoying his hands stroking slowly down her body too much to stop, even though she _knew_ she should. But then after several moments the decision was made for her when they were interrupted by a knock on the front door.

"They'll go away," Jay whispered, barely lifting his lips off of Brooke's.

"Jay!" Brooke leaned back, giggling against him. "We _invited_ them," she pressed her hand against his chest in a playful shove. "Come on," she said, "I want everything to be perfect." She slipped her hands in his, and pulled him towards the door.

Tonight was their official housewarming party. Brooke had been living in the apartment for just over eight months, and Jay had moved in over a month before. They had originally planned for the party to be two weeks prior, but the Intelligence unit had caught a complicated case at the beginning of the long weekend and the party had to be postponed.

"Everything _will_ be perfect," Jay replied, laughing at his beautiful girl. "But baby," he added, a smirk on his lips, "You may want to take off your apron."

With Brooke running back into the kitchen, he moved alone towards the door, swinging it open wide to reveal Ruzek, Burgess, and Atwater standing in the hallway. "Hey guys," he said, ushering them into the foyer. "Welcome to our humble abode."

Jay laughed, trying to hide his discomfort. None of his work friends had been to his and Brooke's apartment, and he _knew_ he was going to get comments. Something of the _how are you living here on a detective's salary_ variety, even though everyone in the room already knew the answer to _that_ question.

His salary didn't even cover the furniture.

"Jesus," Ruzek whispered, trying to keep his voice low enough that Brooke wouldn't overhear, wherever she was. "Humble abode, my ass," he said, taking in the large floor-to-ceiling windows. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped open, and Jay was transported back to the first time _he_ had seen Brooke's apartment.

He had felt so small then, so insignficant. He had been completely sure that a girl like Brooke Davis, a girl who lived in an apartment like _this_ , would never, _could_ never, see anything in a guy like him.

He had been wrong that day, though. Thank God.

His thoughts were interuppted when Atwater handed him a bottle of wine in a shiny blue gift bag. "What to get the girl who has everything," he said, teasing.

"Not wine," Burgess said, rolling her eyes just as Brooke walked into the foyer to meet them. Burgess noted that she looked more and more radiant every day, as if she was _meant_ to settle into the role as the pregnant mom-to-be.

"God," Brooke said, "I can't _wait_ until I can drink wine again," she said, pouting slightly. "It's the one bad thing about being pregnant."

Jay raised his eyebrows at her, as if to say _really?_ Hadn't she just been complaining about her swollen ankles this morning?

But he held his tongue, knowing better than to mention _that_ in this public setting.

 _Smart man,_ Brooke thought.

Burgess ignored the men, moving towards Brooke and giving her a big hug. "You look amazing, and I brought you chocolate," she said, smiling.

"And _that_ is why you're my favorite," Brooke responded, opening the Lindt truffles box right then and there, and then popping one into her mouth. "Oh my god, these are _amazing._ "

"Are you gonna share?" Jay said, teasing her and pressing his lips against the side of her head.

"Not with you," she teased back, letting him know she knew _exactly_ what he had been thinking before. "You can have the wine. The chocolate's mine."

His team began to laugh, and it went a long way to ease the tension in Jay's shoulders.

He was glad whenever Brooke was completely herself in front of his friends. He knew they had spent time together before, and he knew that they all liked her a lot, but more recently, he had wanted them to understand that she wasn't the Brooke Davis the tabloids had been portraying her as in the past few weeks.

The press had gone _crazy_ with the story about him in the military, and Brooke had _refused_ to acknoledge it. Her mother had almost gone so far as to _insist_ she hold a press conference, to try to put a positive spin on Jay's past, but Brooke wouldn't hear of it. She said it was her private business, and she didn't care what anyone had to say.

And one Brooke Davis made up her mind, there was no changing it.

The problem was that in turn, the press had become irritated. Starved for information, they had painted her as unfriendly and standoffish, two things she had _never_ been described as before. Two things that were _far_ from the truth.

But truth or not, it was what was being said about her in the press recently, and even though he had told his friends to pay it no mind, even though he had _explained_ everything to them at work, the whole thing had him feeling uneasy.

But as the group moved into the living room, and as Dawson, Brett, Voight, Olinsky, Will, and Natalie joined them, he realized he had nothing to worry about. They all loved her.

And really, how could you not?

"So Brooke," Natalie asked, popping a snickerdoodle into her mouth as she took a break from sipping her red wine. "Do you go back to New York often?"

"About once a month" Brooke said, reaching for a snickerdoodle herself, pouty that she couldn't join in in the wine. Thankfully, the awkwardness and tension from their first meeting had faded since Will had broken things off with Nina and was now dating Natalie. "I'm trying to move more of the compay here though," she added, "With a new baby, I don't want to be travelling as much."

Atwater's ears perked up at Brooke's words. "Does that mean the next magazine cover shoot will be here?"

Brooke turned to look at Atwater, a wave of confusion consuming her face. "I don't know, maybe?"

Jay wasn't confused _at all._ "Hoping Alex Dupree will pay Chicago another visit?" He teased.

"Damn straight," Kevin confirmed, no shame in his words. "That girl is _fine._ "

Everyone laughed, including Hank Voight, who had been in the corner of the apartment, deep in conversation with Olinsky.

Erin moved towards the pair. She had been eager to get a chance to talk to Hank alone, but was unsure it was going to happen tonight. "Hey, kiddo," he said, "Your place looks fantastic."

He had seen it a few times before, but this time it had clearly been cleaned from top to bottom, and it truly sparkled. Not to mention the fact that night sky was really cooperating tonight, a full moon and even a few stars appearing through the city lights.

"Thanks, Hank," she said, giving him a soft smile.

Olinsky must have been able to sense that she needed a minute alone with Hank, because he nodded his head and slipped away to join the rest of the group's conversation.

"What's up, kid?" He asked, his eyebrows creasing with genuine concern.

"Nothing bad," she said, trying to hide the nerves behind her smile. "Do you think, uh, do you think Jay and I could talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?"

"Of course," he said, "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

Voight walked into her large kitchen and perched himself on a stool while she went to get Jay. He started to get nervous, but forced himself to stay calm.

Brooke walked in, and behind her followed a _very_ anxious looking Jay.

 _That_ served to calm Voight down tremendously. "Come on, Jay," he said, his voice gruff but slightly teasing, "You already knocked her up and I didn't kick your ass, not sure what else you could've possibly done."

"Hank," Brooke shook her head, her voice a half laugh, half scold.

"Okay, okay," he said, as he watched them relax into the stools across from him. He allowed his voice to grow more serious when he asked, "Seriously, what's up?"

"Well," Brooke began, pausing and allowing a deep breath to fill her lungs. "I met with my lawyer this week." She had initially made the meeting with her lawyer to discuss the slightly tumultuous press situation, but when she got there, he had had a whole other agenda.

"About what?" Hank asked, not waiting for her to continue.

Jay didn't wait for Brooke to continue either, answering straight away. "With the baby's due date a little over a month away, he wants us to start getting everything in order."

Actually, Brooke thought, that had only been part of it. Her lawyer had actually _started_ with mention of marriage to Jay. But then, she hadn't told Jay that. She hadn't wanted to bring that topic up for the first time as part of a _legal_ discussion.

Not when all she could ever _think_ about was how much she wanted to marry Jay.

Every minute of every day she thought about how much she wanted to marry Jay. How _desperately_ she wanted him to propose.

"What does that mean?" Hank's words interuppted her thoughts, and she was forced to shove those thoughts away and refocus on the matter at hand.

"If anything should happen to us," she said, her voice soft and slightly solemn. "We want you to raise our baby."

They had gone back and forth on this. Jay had first suggested Will and Natalie, and Brooke had first suggested Nathan and Haley. But neither pair had _felt_ right.

Brooke hadn't been in love with the idea of Will and Natalie getting custody. They were still in the early stages of their relationship, with Will still navigating his relationship with Owen.

And as for Nathan and Haley, Jay hadn't wanted to uproot their child from the only home they had ever known and move them to another state. Especially while they were dealing with the premature death of their parents.

It had been a _really_ morbid conversation.

But somewhere around three in the morning, they had both finally settled on Hank.

"Me?" He asked, his voice soft, but thick with emotion.

If Brooke wasn't mistaken, she thought she could see tears welling in Hank's eyes. "Yeah," Brooke said. "You."

She stood from her stool and moved around to where Hank was sitting on his stool. "You saved my life that day in New York," she whispered. "I don't know if I have evertruly thanked you for that day, and for all the other days I had because you cared enough to make sure I was okay." She shook her head, still dumbfounded and in awe at his actions that day. He had believed her when no one else had, and then he had found her a place to live, a place to _thrive._

"And you stepped in front of a bullet to save Jay," she continued, referencing the day they had rescued Sam. "And I know you would jump in front of a bullet to save my child, and if for some reason Jay and I have to leave this world behind, there is no one I would rather my baby be with than you."

This time she was _sure_ she saw a tear, but Hank brushed it away before it was able to fully form.

"I'd be honored," he choked out. "Thank you."

"Thank you, sir," Jay said, his voice thick with emotion as well. "For everything." He knew that he would never truly find a way to thank Hank for saving his life that day, for saving Brooke's life all those years ago, but he hoped that this was a step in that direction.

And he also knew Brooke's words were true.

If God forbid anything happened to him, there was no where else he would want his baby to be.

000000

"I think everyone had fun," Brooke said, fishing for Jay's opinion. "I think tonight went well. Don't you?"

"I think tonight went _more_ than well, babe," Jay said, placing the last wine glass in the dishwasher before he began to put in the dish soap.

"You know," Brooke said, watching Jay's jeans tighten against his butt as he leaned to open the soap compartment on the door of the dishwasher. "I don't think there is anything quite as sexy as watching a man load the dishwasher."

He straightened at her words, sending her a wink as he pressed the button to turn it on. "Really?" He said, as he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Really," she said, her breathing growing slightly heavy as she watched him move towards her.

Once again he pinned her between him and the counter, picking up exactly where he had left out hours before.

He kissed her roughly, devouring her with his lips, his hands. He went to lift her on the counter but she stopped him, pushing his chest away with her hands. "I think," she panted, "I'm too pregnant for the kitchen."

His laugh was thick and throaty, "Fair enough."

She kissed him again then, deeply and passionately. "So take me to bed," she said, huskily.

He guided her through the long hallway to her bedroom, as he peppered open mouth kisses down her neck and shoulders. By the time they reached their bed, she was already wiggling out of her dress and kicking it onto the floor.

When she leaned back onto the pillows, he almost lost his breath. How was it possible that she get more and more beautiful every time he laid eyes on her? Sure, her breasts were fuller than they were when he first met her, not to mention her belly, the one that was growing and nurturing their baby was growing fuller, too. And, of course, her eyes were as bright and beautiful as ever, her smile melting him more and more with each dimple.

But he didn't think that was it.

He wasn't sure exactly _what_ it was. But every time he saw her, every time she smiled at him, she quite literally took his breath away.

She laughed, shaking her head and signalling for him to stop staring and join her on the bed. He undressed quickly before sliding in himself.

"You are so beautiful," he said, laying kisses up from her stomach to her breasts to her clavicle as he moved higher on the bed.

"You _have_ to say that," she breathed, even though she actually _did_ believe him. She had never had a man look at her the way Jay looked at her.

And she had had a _lot_ of men look at her.

"No," he breathed between kisses, "I don't." He wanted her to know how much he truly meant the words.

He kissed her for several minutes, taking ownership of her lips, not quite ready to release her and switch his position. Although his body was _very_ ready.

Finally, he moved his lips away and turned her slighty on the side. Ever since she had passed into her eighth month of pregnancy, he had been entering her from behind.

"Mmmm," she sighed, as he laid kisses along the backs of her shoulders. And then with one quick move, he pushed himself into her, and the long groan that escaped her lips had him ready to finish right then.

He knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, rocking against her, his arms wrapped around her body from behind.

"Oh my god," she sighed, loving how strong Jay's hands felt as they stroked her breasts, how warm his lips felt as he kissed her skin. "Jay," she panted.

She bit back another moan, and then that was it for Jay. When she buckled against him and her limbs began to quiver as the orgasm ripped through her, he finally allowed himself to let go, too.

000000

"Babe," Brooke whispered, "Are you awake?"

She hadn't been able to find a comfortable sleeping position lately, and even though Jay had _completely_ tired her out, she was still very much awake.

"Yeah," he croaked, even thought he clearly wasn't.

"We should come up with baby names."

 _Oh yeah,_ Jay thought. _Because that's what I want to do at 3:30 in the morning._ "Okay," he said, not able to refuse her anyting.

"What about Claire for a girl?" Brooke asked, turned slowly to face him, pressing her naked, swollen belly against his rock hard abs.

"Claire?" He asked, opening his eyes and making a face. "I don't know." He _might_ be able to refuse her that.

"Okay, okay," she said, going through the rest of the list she had prepared. "April?"

"April's a month," Jay replied, knowing he was being difficult, but his eyes still readjusting to the room and he didn't like _either_ of those names.

"So?" Brooke laughed, not caring in the least. She was just happy to include him in the inner monologue she'd been having for the past hour.

"How about Josephine?" He asked, now just as invested in this conversation as she was.

"Josephine?" Brooke asked, crinkling her forehead in confusion.

"I was thinking we could call her Josie," he whispered.

She sat up at that, "You've thought about this before?"

"Of course I have," he said, reaching for her hand and intertwining his fingers in his own.

She smiled, loving that he had put thought into this. But she still was confused by the name choice. "Isn't that kind of old fashioned?" She asked.

"It was my mother's name," he whispered.

Her smile widened, but this time there was a little bit of sadness behind it. "I wish I could have met her," she said.

"Me too," he whispered, his face now mirroring her sadness.

"Well," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "I think it's beautiful," she leaned down and kissed him lightly. "Josie Halstead," she continued, "It has a nice ring to it."

"Halstead?" Now it was Jay's turn to sit up in the bed.

"Yeah," she said, surprised that he hadn't realized that was the plan from the beginning. "I want our baby's name to be Halstead."

And then, before he could stop himself, Jay said, "I want _your_ name to be Halstead."

Brooke lost her breath as her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest, "Wh-what?"

"I want your last name to be Halstead. I want to marry you, and I want your last name to be Halstead."

And then, before she could respond, he stood up and moved to his dresser, opening the drawer and finding the diamond ring that had been there for over a month, since the day he moved in.

Just as Atwater had said when he walked in the door, he, too, wasn't sure what to get for the girl who had everything. He had been nervous, planning proposal after proposal, only to nix it at the last second, deciding it wasn't good enough.

But for some reason, this moment, here in the darkness of their bedroom, the full moon creating the only light, this moment felt right.

"Brooke," he said, moving back towards the bed, his blue eyes never leaving her hazel ones. "I have never considered myself a lucky man. But the day you walked into district 21, that changed. And I've felt lucky every moment since. The day you told me I was going to be a dad," he paused for a moment, trying to will his voice to stay strong. "I don't think I've ever had a happier moment in my life."

He smiled, a tear escaping his eyes. "In the big moments, I've known that I loved you. But it's in the small moments that I've known I wanted to spend my life with you. I want to spend every morning sitting across from you at the table, drinking my plain coffee while you drink your fancy cups, our legs intertwined underneath. I want to watch the Blackhawks while you sit next to me, pretending to be intersted but really playing on your phone. I want to come home from work each day and know that you and our baby will be here. Those small moments, _those_ are the moments when I've felt the luckiest."

His leg sunk into the mattress, but he still managed to bend on one knee. "I love you, Brooke Davis." Another tear escaped his eyes, but this time he didn't bother to push it away. "Will you make me the luckiest man in the world? Will you marry me?"

For a moment she was speechless, unable to form a full thought. Unable to comprehend the fact that everything she has ever wanted in her life is being offered to her by this incredible man.

"Yes," Brooke whispered, finally, tears streaming down her face. "I love you," she moved towards him, capturing his lips with her own. "Yes!"

As he kissed her back, Jay had one overwhelming thought.

He had been wrong before. It turns out, this is _exactly_ what he wanted to be doing at 3:30 in the morning.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

I hope you liked it!


	37. Chapter 37

HI EVERYONE :) Yes, I know, it has been FOREVER since I have updated this story. I'm sorry! I really shouldn't be allowed to write two stories at once, it's too hard! I get super excited about one storyline and all I want to do is write about that one, and then it's hard to get back into the other one. BUT, I just re-read this story and am ready to wrap it up with the final few chapters! HERE GOES... Hope you enjoy it! HAPPY READING!

 **Chapter 37,**

Brooke stared at her diamond ring, enjoying the way it caught the moonlight through the windows. Even in the darkness of their bedroon, it seemed to shine so brightly. It was the most perfect ring she had ever laid eyes on. And really, it was as if she had picked it out herself, _that's_ how well Jay had picked for her, how _well_ he had known her.

Her ring was an emerald shaped diamond, and it was two-carats at least. The band, covered in diamonds, was so dainty and beautiful, she couldn't believe such a gorgeous creation existed.

And she worked in _fashion,_ creating gorgeous pieces all the time.

So, at the very least, she had her gorgeous, one-month old engagement ring to stare at while she laid awake late into the night.

Brooke was officially nine months pregnant, and the baby growing inside her was _not_ letting her sleep. It was as if her activity during the day lulled baby bug to sleep, but the minute she tried to lay down and get some rest, baby bug was up and _kicking._

Baby bug was the name they had chosen to give the baby for now. It made it easier to call the baby _something,_ because they couldn't call it _he_ or _she._

This was because they had decided they weren't going to find out what the sex of the baby was. According to Jay, there were only so many surprises left in life, and this was, by far, the best one. So, even know she had desparately wanted one of those absurdly fancy gender reveal parties, the ones where the inside of the cake was dyed pink or blue, she had agreed not to find out.

She had had to stop herself from calling the doctor a thousand times, of course, but she was still in the dark.

After many discussions, they had decided on Joseph Henry Halstead for a boy, after Jay's mother and after Hank. And then they had decided on Josephine Haley Halstead for a girl, after Jay's mother and Brooke's very best friend.

Haley had come up just last week to help her set up the nursery. According to Haley, they didn't need to know the sex of the baby to do that. They had gone shopping for furniture together, picking the most gorgeous white crib, changing table, and dressing table that Brooke had ever seen. Then, Jay had patiently put everything together while Haley and Brooke squealed with delight.

It had been a perfect day.

Brooke turned again, trying to find a comfortable position. God, she couldn't get comfortable _at all._

Being this pregnant was _hard._

She had been going to the doctor every week, though, and she never _ever_ complained. Because really, well, she couldn't complain. Being pregnant was the thing she had wished for. It was the thing she had so desparately wanted for as long as she could remember.

She was _creating_ a family of her own. Her, Jay, and this little baby bug.

God, she was _literally_ counting down the days to their little baby was born. She couldn't _wait_ to be a mom for real. Even if she already, kind of, felt like one.

"Baby bug," Brooke turned slightly when she heard the sound of Jay's groggy voice. "You are just not letting your mama get any sleep are you?" He said, as he turned towards her and snaked his warm hand against Brooke's belly.

"Nope," Brooke turned fully and scooted towards Jay in the bed, cuddling up as close as she could with her large stomach between them. "None at all."

"I'm sorry, babe," he said, before pressing a kiss to her temple. "Can I do something?" He asked, as he combed fingers through her hair, letting the warmth of his hands calm her.

"You should get some sleep," Brooke replied, lacing her fingers into his free hand.

"I can stay up with you," Jay protested, kissing her once again.

His lips felt so soft against hers, but she pushed him away just the same. "Absolutely not," Brooke laughed, "You need to save up your sleep. The minute this baby comes out, you are officially on baby duty and I am locking this door and sleeping forever."

Jay laughed, and the sound of it filled the quiet, dark room. "Okay," he whispered, kissing her once again. "I can't wait."

She smiled too, because really, she couldn't either.

0000000000000000

"I miss coffee," Brooke pouted. She was in the kitchen, her robe wrapped around her, and she was balanced on the one of the kitchen stools. It took her _forever_ to get onto the stool these days, but then once she was up there, she spent most of the day working from that spot.

For some reason lately, she enjoyed sketching on the kitchen stool more than she did in her office. Maybe it was because she had a couch in her office and she didn't have enough self control _not_ to nap on it.

Yes, that was probably it.

She still had a lot of sketches to get done for her next meeting, and she still had her private project that she was working on. The one she hadn't even told Millie about yet. _Baby Brooke._

"I know," Jay said, as he guiltily took a long sip of his own coffee. "Do you want to smell mine?" He asked. He had offered to cut out coffee with her weeks ago, but she had refused. She said she wanted him to be awake at work, but that also she liked to live vicariously through him. And so she inhaled the scent of his coffee every morning while he got ready for work.

"Yes," she said, just like she did every morning.

They had gotten into somewhat of a routine. Jay would wake up, shower, and start the coffee, and then he would cook Brooke a huge breakfast. Something full of nutrients to help their baby grow.

It had started a few weeks ago when the baby started measuring small. They had sent Brooke for what they called an official 'growth ultrasound' to make sure that the baby was meeting its milestones and growing as it should. Officially, the baby didn't meet criteria for what they called 'growth restriction', but the minute Jay heard the word 15th percentile, suddenly all he wanted to do was feed Brooke. All. The. Time.

So, he made _huge_ breakfasts, and they he would sit together while he drank his coffee and she ate her breakfast, and then he would start getting ready for work, only after he watched her finish at least three-quarters of her plate.

She had been working from home this past week, which he honestly preferred. He didn't like the idea of her spending the day on her feet working at the store. He had finally convinced her last week to hire a manager to help her out around the store, which gave her more time to sketch designs and manage the business part of the company.

She was also currently trying to transfer more and more of the company to Chicago, and he was starting to worry she was taking on too much.

She assured him that she could handle it. And truth was, he _knew_ she could. She was Brooke Davis. She could handle _anything._

It was just that she shouldn't have to.

"Mmmmmm," the sound of her sigh broke him out of his thoughts. "That smells amazing."

Jay leaned into kiss her on the forehead, and inhaled her scent at the same time. "You smell amazing," he said simply.

She held back a snarky reply, knowing he was being serious. That's the thing she learned about Jay Halstead in the past ten months getting to know him. They bantered, and flirted, and joked, but at the end of the day, he loved every part of her, just the way she was. "I love you," she said, smiling a warm and content smile back. She couldn't remember the last time she had been _this_ happy and content.

"I love you, too," he replied, easily. "I'll see you tonight," he added before leaning down to kiss her properly.

"See you tonight," she said, without another thought. Then she kissed him once more, patted his butt, gave him a wink, and sent him on his way.

0000000000

Jay knew he should have been working, but he was worried about Brooke. He found himself _always_ worrying about Brooke.

Was this what it was going to be like when he was a parent?

He wasn't even worried about anything _specific._ He just hoped she was eating, that she wasn't running herself too ragged, and that she knew she could call him if she needed _anything._

The problem was, he knew she wouldn't call. She didn't like to bother him at work.

He went to type out a quick text, but before he could click send, his boss' voice drew his attention.

"What do we know?" Hank marched out of his office into the bullpen, and Jay stood.

 _Shit,_ he thought. They had a _serious_ case going on, and he had just been caught sending a text on his phone. Well, maybe Voight would think he was communicating with his CI.

Which, actually, he really had been doing all morning.

Voight seemed to be staring at Jay, waiting for an answer. Which was fair, because the tip _had_ come from Jay's CI. But he seemed to be lost for words in the moment, struggling to shift his brain away from his pregnant fiance and back to the work at hand.

"Looks like they've got 2 million in coke, and their buyers got spooked," Dawson said, covering for him.

Earlier that day, they'd found a body in a park. It was hidden under bushes and leaves, but a man had been jogging with his dog and had come across it easily. The man had barely been dead 6 hours according to the coroner.

They had quickly connected him to a low level drug dealer, and it seemed like an open and shut case, but then through a couple calls to CIs, it looked like there was a much larger deal at play here.

"Sarg," Ruzek moved from his desk towards the white board, pointing at a picture of a menacing looking man. "We have to move in on this." The man was the leader of a drug ring they had been chasing for months.

"We can make contact, pose as buyers," Atwater explained, continuing where his partner left off. "We use Halstead's CI to make the connection, and offer 2.5 mill."

"We got to strike while the iron's hot," Ruzek continued, "They've gotta be nervous holding this much dope. They'll jump to take the deal."

Voight just nodded in agreement before turning towards Jay, who hadn't said anything. "Set it up."

"Okay."

And so he did.

But then, it went terribly wrong.

0000000000

Brooke felt her first contraction at 10 am.

It came and went just like the doctor described. She felt a tightening deep in her belly, along with an excruciating pain in her back.

 _Jesus,_ she thought. _This labor thing is no joke._

But she didn't want to be one of those patient's who went to the doctor after one contraction, only to be sent away because she wasn't _actually_ in labor, so she forced herself not to think about it.

After thirty seconds, it went away.

She got up and downed a bottle of water, because her doctor had told her that dehydration could cause contractions.

Maybe that's all it was.

But then she had another one at 10:10. This one lasted longer than the last one, but still she wouldn't allow herself to focus on it.

Even if the pain was so bad it nearly stole her breath.

Her doctor had given her labor precautions, and she had specifically told that for a first time mom that she should wait until she was having contractions every five minutes, lasting an entire minute, for 2 hours.

These were only lasting 30 seconds. And so far, they were 10 minutes apart.

She tried and failed to get back on the stool, and so she decided to move to her office. She set up there, ignoring a third contraction that ripped through her. She took deep breaths, forcing herself to stay calm. Then she continued to try to focus on sketching, but it was _not_ working. The contractions were getting more painful, and a _tiny bit_ more frequent.

She decided she needed to do something to take her mind off of everything.

And so, she called down to her driver. The driver that Jay had _insisted_ she start using the minute she hit her ninth month of pregnancy ' _just in case'._

She had rolled her eyes at him, but had finally, _reluctantly_ agreed. Now, she was so damn happy she had. "Todd, hi," she said immediately when he picked up on the other end. "Can you pick me up? I want to pick up lunch for Jay and his team and bring it over."

"Sure thing, Ms. Davis," he replied.

She thought, absently, at how much she was going to _love_ being called Mrs. . Halstead instead of Ms. Davis. But she didn't say that. She just took a deep breath, ignoring another contraction, and said, "Thanks, Todd."

She moved towards the bedroom, in search of some maternity clothes that were _not_ the terrycloth robe she had been wearing every day for the past week.

Thirty minutes later she was walking up the front stairs to District 21, stopping only once for a forty-five second contraction.

When she finally made it into the lobby, she was surprised to see that Trudy Platt wasn't the Sergeant sitting behind the desk. Instead, it was an unfamiliar officer, dressed in his blue police uniform.

He looked young. "Can I help you?" He asked, clearly curious about the nine month pregnant woman in high-heeled boots carrying two huge bags of food.

Because, nine months pregnant or not, Brooke Davis didn't go outside in _flats._

"Yes," Brooke replied easily, "I'm here to see Hank Voight." She had gotten into the habit of asking to see Hank whenever it was someone she didn't know at the desk. His name seemed to cause a little more fear in these young officers, and so they never questioned her. Instead, they just buzzed her up without a second thought.

Just as all the others did, he motioned for her to go towards the gate. And then, without even calling first, he buzzed her through.

She moved slowly, not because she was sneaking up the stairs, but because trudging up stairs while pregnant was no small feat.

But it gave her time to overhear their voices. To hear them speak freely without them realizing that she was there.

She could hear the sounds of their heated exchange, but she couldn't piece together what they were saying. She was curious, and took another, faster step. But then, all at once, another contraction began to build, and she knew she was going to need to stop before the peak of the pain. She gently placed the bags on the floor and pulled out her phone.

 _Shit,_ she thought, staring at the time illuminated there. That was only _four_ minutes after the last one.

They were officially getting closer and closer together. Maybe this trip hadn't been such a good idea, after all.

Maybe she should've been making a trip to the hospital instead.

As she stood on the stairs, the bags down by her feet, her body curled against the railing, she heard something that caused her to stop focusing on her contractions and to finally _start_ focusing on the words that were drifting from upstairs.

"But he's been missing two hours already," Kim's voice was shrill, nearing hysteria. That immediately had Brooke worried. Kim may be the only female in the Intelligence unit, but she was tough as they come. She _never_ got hysterical.

"We'll find him," Ruzek said, and he must have been close to Kim, because his voice sounded almost hushed. Not hushed enough, though, because she heard it loud and clear.

With the contraction finally over, Brooke leaned down to lift the bags of food and moved further up the stairs.

"How?" Kim said, her voice breaking slightly.

Brooke was nearly at the top when she heard anothe voice.

"We keep this in house," Hank's voice bellowed above Kim and Ruzek's, and instantly Brooke found herself scared. Hank only kept things in house when he was _really_ worried.

"And we don't tell Brooke."

She had just made it the top of the landing as he said that, and suddenly her arms seemed to give out as understanding settled over her. She dropped the bags of food, and they crashed gracelessly to the floor.

It was like her body knew, though, depsite everything, that her legs couldn't give out. That she couldn't fall to the ground and fall apart.

Even though she felt like she wanted to completely crumble, her body protected her baby above all else.

"Tell me what," her voice came out quivering, but there was no doubt in her mind that everyone in the room heard her question.

You could hear a pin drop above the silence in the room, and the whole team was all staring at her terrified.

Except one member of the team. The one that was missing.

"Tell me what," she repeated, even though she already knew the answer.

Even though she already knew what they weren't supposed to tell her.

That it was the love of her life, that it was the father of her beautiful, unborn child, that it was _her_ Jay Halstead that was missing.

And that it was her life that was never going to be the same.

"Brooke," Hank began, but then he stopped short.

Because at the exact moment he had said her name, something happened.

Her water broke.

And then, really, there was nothing else to say.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review !**


	38. Chapter 38

Hi all :) This is a little bit shorter of a chapter, but I wanted to get one out before the weekend because I am on call and won't get a chance to write :( Thank you so much for all of your kind reviews on the last chapter and for your continued interest. Y'all are the best :) Also, I promise updates for Any Other Day next week, too.

Happy reading, and have a good weekend y'all :)

 **Chapter 38,**

Here's the thing that no one tells you about labor. It's not all frantic and hustled and _quick_.

You don't roll in on an ambulance, you don't get rushed upstairs, you don't have a doctor there waiting for you, it's not three pushes and the babies out.

It's _nothing_ like what they show you on TV.

And it's _nothing_ like one would expect.

Instead, it's slow. And once the epidural is placed, it's almost _calm._

At this point, Brooke isn't sure if she should be grateful for this or not.

Because, really, the fact that Kim calmly drove her to the hospital, that they waited in the triage area of Labor and Delivery for 10 minutes before seeing a nurse, and nearly thirty minutes before seeing a doctor, and then were slowly moved over to a labor and delivery room gave everyone _lots_ of time.

It gave everyone _lots_ of time to find Jay and to make sure he would get there in time for the birth of their baby.

So, in some respects, yes, she would say she was grateful.

But then there was the fact that all this time, all this pain-free, blissful, epidural-induced time, was just giving her time to think about the fact that Jay was gone and may _not_ make it back in time for the birth of their baby.

That he may not make it back _period._

And so, while part of her was grateful, the other part - the _bigger_ part - was going crazy.

The lights were dimmed in her room, and Kim was snoring lightly, fast asleep on the chair next to her. Hank had _insisted_ that Kim accompany Brooke to the hospital, even though she had tried very hard to refuse.

In her opinion, the Intelligence team was already down one member, they definitely didn't need to be down another. But Hank had assured Brooke that they had it handled, and that the best place for Kim was by her side, keeping her calm.

Even with that though, she still wasn't completely convinced. Actually, Brooke had been about to flat out refuse until he told her that he wouldn't stop worrying about her if Kim wasn't there, and that wouldn't be good for anyone.

It was only then that she finally agreed.

Kim may have been able to rest, but Brooke couldn't. Even though the pain from the contractions had finally mostly abated, there seemed to be so much going on in the room. The monitors were beeping quietly, tracking the baby's heart rate, as well as Brooke's. Her blood pressure cuff kept going off every fifteen minutes, squeezing and releasing her arm in an automatic rhythym.

Plus, every time she moved even an inch, her nurse would run in and have to readjust the fetal heart and contraction monitors on her belly.

Well, _that,_ and then there was the fact that Jay was missing.

Kim hadn't given her a lot of details on what went down, just that Jay had been posing as a drug buyer and that he had been made. Evidently, the team had leads, and Hank _said_ he was optimistic, but honestly, he would have said _anything_ to get her to leave the bullpen and go to the hospital.

Because, really, until she had heard those words spill out of Hank's mouth, along with the promise of hourly updates, she hadn't planned on moving an inch. She could have pushed the baby out in the bullpen for all she cared. They would've had to bring the doctor her.

"Hi Brooke," Dr. Patel walked into the room, interrupting her thoughts. She had a small, warm smile on her face and it calmed Brooke's racing heart tremendously. That, and the fact that it was 2:30 in the morning and the doctor still looked fresh and wide awake.

"Hey, Doc," Brooke greeted her. "Time for another exam?" Brooke knew the drill. Or at least, she was learning it. Again, none of this had been what she had been expecting, but she was learning to take a deep breath and give up a little control. The doctor knew what she was doing, just like Hank and the intelligence unit knew what they were doing.

"Yep," Dr. Patel said easily, moving towards the cabinet to pull out a pair of sterile gloves. "Do you mind if we turn on the lights?"

It was only then that she noticed her nurse Michelle had come in, too. "Nope," Brooke replied, "Go ahead."

Michelle flipped on the light, and began to move over towards the side of the bed where the computer sat.

The light woke Kim suddenly, and her eyes fluttered open and she startled. "Is everything okay?" Kim asked, seemingly embarassed that she had fallen asleep.

"Everything's fine," Dr. Patel answered. She gestured towards the clock, "It's just been four hours since my last exam, and I'm hoping Brooke's made some progress."

Brooke was in what they called 'early labor'. She had laughed when she had heard the name, her contractions sure as hell hadn't felt like _early_ labor. But evidently, one centimeter change every few hours was considered normal at this stage. Which was absurd, if you asked Brooke.

And she didn't want to examine her too often, as that would have increased her risk of infection.

See, _this_ was why she was going crazy. Four hours between exams? Maybe she should put on a movie. She had abandoned her book _hours_ ago.

"I'll step out," Kim said, excusing herself before Brooke uncovered herself for the exam.

She knew that if Jay didn't make it for the delivery, that Kim would be the one holding her hand while she pushed a full grown baby out of her vagina. So there would be no modesty at that point. And, let's be real, she had never really cared about modesty before. But for some reason, right now, she _craved_ the privacy. So instead of telling her to stay, she looked at her gratefully and said, "Thanks, Kim."

"Okay," Dr. Patel said, sitting down on the side of the beg as Brooke positioned herself in a butterfly position. "Lots of pressure."

"Dr. Patel," Brooke laughed, "This epidural the anesthesiologist gave me is so good, I don't feel anything."

Dr. Patel laughed, too, the rapport between the two of them having been well established. "Okay," she said, smiling. After a few moments, she was finished with her exam. "You're officially 6 centimeters dilated!"

She turned the Michelle, who was at the computer ready to document the exam. "6 centimeters dilated, 80% effaced, head position minus 2."

Brooke ignored the rest of her exam, knowing that it was important for documentation purposes, but that the first number was the one that matters. "So I'm in active labor?"

Suddenly, she grew nervous. She had had Kim googling ever since she had heard the term _early labor,_ and she knew that active labor moved twice as fast. Her baby could be here sooner than she expected. Her baby could be here, well, _probably_ would be here, before Jay.

"You are," Dr. Patel said, smiling warmly. She had heard the whole story when she had been taking her history during the admission process, so she understood the reason for the hitch in Brooke's voice as soon as she heard it. "Listen," she said, standing to remove her gloves and throw them in the trash can. Then she moved back to the bed and sat on the edge, looking at Brooke squarely in the face. "If you hadn't broken your water, we would let you sit here and labor on your own. Your baby looks fantastic on the monitor, and we wouldn't do anything to augment you."

"Okay," Brooke said, to let her know that she was following.

"But you came in after you broke your water," she continued to explain. "That puts us on the clock. The longer your water is broken, the higher chance your baby will get an infection. And _that_ is something we want to avoid."

"Okay," Brooke said, her voice raspy and not at all even.

"So we are going to continue increasing your dose of pitocin to get your contractions to become even stronger, and we are going to do the best we can to deliver this baby as soon as we can," she said, calmly. "I know you want to wait for your fiance but-"

"No," Brooke cut her off, her voice a little louder and a lot more certain than it had been only moments ago. "Do what's best for the baby. I trust you. Just do whatever you think."

"Okay," she said, softly. "We will." Then, she turned towards the nurse and instructed her to increase the pitocin even higher. "I'll come check on you in a little bit, okay?"

"Okay," Brooke said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt. "And, um, can you wait a little while before you send Kim back in?"

"Of course," she said, nodding her head with understanding before she left the room.

Dr. Patel may have left, but Michelle stayed. She helped clean Brooke up after the exam, got her into a comfortable position, and made sure the monitors were in the right place. That was the thing that Brooke had noticed in the past twelve to fifteen hours laboring at the hospital. The doctors came in for a few minutes here and there, and they watched the baby's fetal heart monitor like hawks outside of the room, but the nurses were the ones who really took care to make sure you were comfortable.

They were the ones that made sure you weren't alone with your thoughts for too long.

"Thanks, Michelle," Brooke said, hoping she knew how much she appreciated everything they were both doing for her and her baby.

"You're welcome, Brooke," she replied, before covering her with another warm blanket. "You let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"I will." Brooke said, "Can you turn off the lights?"

Michelle did as she asked, and then, Brooke was alone again. She stared at the ceiling, thinking about how badly she wanted to meet her baby.

She could feel baby bug kicking inside her, right under her ribs, as if he was literally trying to swim and kick his way out. She could feel the pressure of his head, getting lower and lower in her pelvis. She could hear the sound of his rapid heart beat on the monitor.

That sound was the _only_ thing that soothed her through all of this.

All her life, she had _desperately_ wanted a child.

And it's funny. Because for _years_ she had been ready to do this alone. Sure, she would have asked Haley or Peyton to join her in the delivery room so that she wasn't _actually_ alone, but she had imagined and she had been fully _prepared_ to raise her baby alone.

She had taken care of Angie, and Sam, and she had been ready to have another baby to love. She had been ready to be one of those young, single moms. She had been _so_ ready.

But now?

Now she wasn't ready at all. She didn't want to bring this child into this world alone. Not her and _Jay's_ child.

She wanted him _here._

She closed here eyes, and sent up a silent prayer.

 _Please, please,_ she prayed. _Please bring him back to me._

 _Please don't give me everything I ever wanted, just to take it away._

She silently begged and begged, tears streaming down her face and clogging up her throat. She had never felt so desparate before. In all her life, with all her past heartbreak, she had never _ever_ felt so completely hopeless.

And three hours later, when the doctor informed her she was fully dilated and ready to start pushing her baby into the world, she had never felt so completely alone.

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Jay had never been so happy to see Adam Ruzek's face.

He should _never_ have agreed to do the drop.

That was the thing he'd been noticing lately. The closer he became to being a father, the more he became concerned with his own well being.

Don't get him wrong, he still planned to put his life on the line for his partner, for his team, and for his city... but he was a little more aware of the dangers at play. And he was a little more afraid of not making it home at night.

Because now, he had a whole lot to go home to.

At this point, though, he was pretty disoriented. He was stuck in a basement with no shadow of light from the outside world. The dark grey cinderblock walls were covered in water residue, likely from the old, rusty pipes that lined the ceiling. The room had a distinct smell of mildew, and their was a thickness to the air he couldn't describe. Likely because it had no windows, and the only light came from a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling by nothing more than a wire.

He had no idea what time of day it was. He estimated he had been down in this dark room for almost a full day, because he was starting to get weak from lack of water.

Well, _more_ weak. He was already plenty weak from his injuries.

Even with his injuries, though, he had spent the last twenty hours, give or take a few, working on a plan to get himself out of the mess he was in. He knew, right away, that they dumped the bag that held the tracking device.

He'd been made, and they got him good.

They had also found the microphone bud that was planted in his left ear, and he was still bleeding from the spot where there nails had dug into him when they had aggressively ripped it out.

With both devices gone, his team had no way of tracking him, no way of _finding_ him, and so he needed to find a way out on his own. The problem was, he was quite literally _cuffed_ to a metal pole in the center of the room.

Short of cutting off his own hand, he wasn't going to budge.

And don't think he hadn't thought of that.

He just prayed that Hank Voight and the rest of his team had a plan. Or had a lead. Or had _anything._

And then, sure enough, a few hours later, they found him.

He had heard signs of a struggle upstairs, followed by several shots fired. The sound of the bullent blasting from a gun terrified him to his core, because, really, it could have been anyone's gun.

And while this gang may have decided to keep him alive for some reason, another one might not see the benefit of keeping a known cop right next to two million dollars worth of drugs.

And his mind may have been playing tricks on him, because he really had been without water and food for so long, but it hadn't _sounded_ like his team to him. He had long since memorized the way his friends walked through a site, the way they scattered front, back, and side before invading the space all at once.

It just didn't _seem_ like them.

But, thank the lord, it was.

A few moments after the shots rang out, the door to the basement was kicked open. He had been trying to find the strength to stand, in the case he needed to defend himself, when Adam Ruzek came through the door.

With Kevin Atwater trailing behind.

 _Thank God._

"Jay," they hurried over to him, and he could literally _feel_ the relief emanating from their skin.

They could probably see it emanating from his, as well.

"The drugs are behind there," Jay said immedaitely, gesturing his head towards a bookshelf that was shoved against a hidden door. He had figured that out about ten hours ago, but he hadn't let on that he'd known anything. "It's locked but we can get them if we-"

"I don't care about the drugs." Suddenly Voight appeared, and within seconds, he began slamming his feet against the stairs as he took them two at a time. "We have to get you to the hospital."

"Sarg, I'm fine," Jay replied, now more concerned with apprehending the ass holes who had locked him up, and making sure they paid for their crimes. "I just need some water, but I'm okay."

"Jay, it's not you I'm worried about," he said, although as he began to look him over, Hank realized that statement wasn't exactly true. Jay's left ear was bleeding so badly he had blood trailing past his face and down his neck. His wrists were both raw from rubbing against the metal cuffs. His clothes were town, and god knows what injuries laid underneath. And worst of all, even with the bruise covering his right eye which was, Hank could see the dark bags their. He could see how drained, how _depleted_ Jay's body was of energy.

"What?" Jay asked, but even as he said the words, realization hit him and his blood ran cold.

"It's not you I'm worried about," Hank repeated, his voice not reveaing a trace of the anxiety he was feeling about Jay, about how close they had clearly come to losing him.

"It's not you," he said a third time, this time his voice was a tiny bit softer. "It's Brooke."

 **xoxo**

Please Review :)


	39. Chapter 39

Hi all :) This is a very, very short chapter, but I felt bad leaving you with a cliffhanger for so long. Life has been crazy, and I don't know how this happened, but I'm already going back on nights again next week! Time is flyyyyingggg. But I still want to try to find time to write, because it really helps to have a creative outlet when work is insane (like today!). Also, I tried to make the birth process a little more realistic because this really is what I do all day and lately the insane, crazy, unrealistic Ob/Gyn storylines on Chicago Med have been making me CRAZY. LOL. Sorry if it's not as high drama, but I can't help it!

Hope you enjoy it either way lol :) Happy Monday!

 **Chapter 39,**

"Kim's not answering," Jay shouted, but his voice could barely be heard over the sound of the engine and the sirens blaring. "Why isn't she answering?" He couldn't help the hysteria that leaked into his voice as he clicked Kim's name on his phone, and tried once again to reach her.

"We'll make it," Voight said, even though he clearly couldn't promise that. He looked over at Jay as he raced down the city streets of Chicago, and took him in, once again. Jay was still wearing his torn, bloody jeans, which were more than likely currently staining Voight's leather interior. But at least he was wiggling out of his stained t-shirt and into the plaid button down Ruzek had taken off his own back to give him, as he continued to speak.

"But why isn't she answering?" Jay repeated, his voice pleading, as he poured a bottle of water onto a tissue Voight had in the car and began to clean the blood off his badly scratched and swollen ear. He stared ahead into the mirror above the passengers seat, trying to make himself as presentable as possible to meet his new baby.

 _His new baby._ He honestly couldn't believe it.

His baby was being born, _right now._ Or maybe, it had been born hours ago.

He found himself wondering if it was a boy or a girl?

It didn't matter though. Not to him. Not as long as it was healthy.

Not as long as his or her's mom was healthy, too.

"Why isn't she answering?" He asked the question a third time, as if this time the answer might be different.

"We're almost there," Voight said, in lieu of responding with another lie. "We're only a few blocks away."

Sure enough, less than five minutes later, Voight dropped Jay off at the main entrance to Chicago Med, and within seconds he was sprinting to the elevators in search for the third flood. The Labor and Delivery Unit.

He rang the button oustide the locked unit three times, stopping himself from ringing it a fourth, knowing the sound would be disruptive and annoying.

He couldn't help it. He was buzzing with adrenaline.

"Can I help you?" A soft voice came over the loudspeaker, and Jay absentmindedly noticed that she had a kind, British accent.

"Yes," Jay panted, his breathing labored more from being away from Brooke than his running to the door. "My name is Jay Halstead. My fiance, Brooke Davis, is giving birth."

"Come in, Detective Halstead," said the voice, and immediately the door slid open. Jay barely registered the clicking sound of the door before he was moving through it, running once again, this time in search of the nurse's station.

Before he even got there, the woman in the British accent got to her feet. She was older than he expected, but her face was as warm as her soft voice. "She's in Room 2," she said, "Follow me."

Jay noted that her soft voice was urgent, and he didn't stop long enough to wonder if that was a good or bad thing. Instead, he followed her until he reached the threshold of the door with large black letters imprinted on the side. "Labor and Delivery, Room 2."

He took a large breath in another failed attempt to slow his breathing and calm his nerves, and then he opened the door.

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"I can't do it," Brooke laid her head back in the bed, in between what seemed to be overlapping contractions. "I can't," she repeated for emphasis, even though her voice was as low and raspy as a whisper.

All of her energy had been spent, and her throat felt unbelievably dry. The ice chips they were the only things she was allowed to consume, and they were just not cutting it.

"You can," Dr. Patel said from where she sat at the edge of the bed. "You're getting hang of this, you're doing so well."

Brooke let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "It doesn't feel like I'm getting the hang of it," she said, her voice near breaking.

Her nurse Michelle was holding one leg, while Kim was holding the other. That had been standing on either side of her while she had been pushing for what felt like _hours._

Dr. Patel kept assuring her that this was _normal._ She explained that first time moms take a long time before they get the hang of it. She explained that it took even longer for moms who had an epidural, because they could barely even feel where to push.

Michelle had agreed immediately, and then reported that actually, most of the time, the doctor didn't even have the patience to stay for the duration of the time it took to push a baby out. She explained that usually, the nurses would just call them when they were close to delivering.

Dr. Patel had laughed at Michelle's statement, seemingly not embarassed at all. Brooke felt honored, and a little wistful, that Dr. Patel had opted to stay and help her push.

And so, she pushed and pushed and pushed with her nurse on her left, a detective on her right, and a doctor on the edge of the bed, between her legs.

It felt good to be surrounded by three strong, fierce women.

Even if all she wanted was one man.

Her body didn't give her much time to dwell on that thought, though, as another contraction began to grow strong inside her.

"Okay," Dr. Patel instructed, placing a gloved hand inside. "Take a deep breath and push down."

Michelle counted off as Brooke pushed as hard and long as she could, until it felt like she couldn't possibly do any more.

And then Brooke took a deep breath, and did it again.

Because it didn't matter how hard this was, how little energy she had... For her baby, she would find it within herself to find a little more.

She was so focused on her three strong pushes, that she didn't notice him right away. But then, as she took her final breath, she heard his voice.

"Brooke." It was so soft, so low, that she almost thought she had dreamt it. But then, there he was, standing at the end of the bed.

 _Thank God._

"Oh my god, Jay!" Suddenly she was sitting up, moving her legs out of position, extending her arms, just needing to be touch him, to be near him. "Jay, you're here." She couldn't believe it.

"I'm here," he said, rushing towards her. Kim discretely moved away, leaving a space right beside her. "I'm here."

Suddenly, the weight of the day seemed to lift, and with that, so did her need to keep it all together. It was as if Jay's presence allowed her to truly feel every part of the day, of the moment.

And so, she began to cry. Loud, choking sobs came from deep within, even as the smile grew on her face.

"Don't cry, baby," Jay said, leaning down to kiss her. "Everything is going to be okay."

He meant those words, and she believed him.

And suddenly, the labor that had taken _hours,_ that had felt like it would never _ever_ end, took a turn. With Jay there holding her, everything became quick and immediate.

It was as if the little baby inside her was just waiting to hear Daddy's voice before it would allow itself to emerge into the world.

She heard a cry, and right away, she realized it wasn't her own.

"It's a boy!" Dr. Patel yelled, lifting the baby, still attached to the umbilical cord, still covered in red and white, into the air before resting him on Brooke's bare chest. "Congratulations mom and dad!" She paused as she clamped the cord twice, and handed the scissors to Jay to cut the cord. "Brooke, you did it!"

Brooke barely heard Dr. Patel's words. The minute she laid that baby boy on her chest, Brooke's world fell away.

She had _never_ experienced a love like this before.

Not with any other person, not in any other time.

It was truly unbelievable.

"You did it, baby," Jay leaned over, staring down at their son with tears in his eyes and awe on his face. He handed the scissors over to Michelle, his eyes unable to move from his son.

"He's perfect," Brooke said, staring at his ten tiny fingers and his ten tiny toes.

"You're perfect," Jay replied, the tears now streaming unashamedly down his face. "I can't believe we made him," he said, as he pressed his lips against his son's forehead.

Dr. Patel gave them a few more minutes of snuggling together with their baby before she spoke up. "Okay, Brooke," she said, "Michelle is going to take the baby and give him to Jay, we need to deliver the placenta."

"Can't I just have one more minute?" Brooke pleaded. She never wanted to let her son out of her sight again. The love, the wonder, the attachment... it was not to be believed.

"I'll hold him right next to you," Jay said, "We're not going anywhere."

"Okay," Brooke relented, shifting to give Michelle her son. Michelle quickly and skillfully cleaned him off, swaddled him up, and handed him over to his father.

Jay looked down at the son in his arms, and right away he noticed he looked just like his mother. He was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen in his life.

And right away he knew he would never know love like the love he had for his son.

Brooke looked over at them, at her boys, and she shook her head in amazement. Only moments ago, they were two. And now, they were three. They were forever changed, in the best possible way.

"I love you," Brooke whispered, before reaching over to caress the face of her partner in all of this. In the love of her life. "I love you so much."

Jay lifted his gaze for a moment, away from his son and towards Brooke. "I love you, too, baby."

"I'm so glad you made it," Brooke whispered, staring up at him with her hazel eyes. Her hair was a mess, her face was streaked with tears, but she had never been more beautiful to him.

"Me too," he said, realizing he needed to amend his earlier statement.

He would never know love like the love he had for his family. _This_ family.

His beautiful son, Joseph.

And his beautiful fiance, Brooke.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


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